


Thedas World Harlequin Paperbacks

by vehlr, weatheredlaw



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Religious Guilt, Roleplay, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:34:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4685495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr, https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which we explore various situations and environments that result in a pleasing outcome for our intrepid couple. (read: BONING)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beyond the Sweet Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady Pentaghast has been at sea for a few days, and idle gossip is honestly beneath her. But sometimes it is worth listening out for things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT LET'S DO THIS.

“Lady Pentaghast, have you heard the scandal?”

She manages not to roll her eyes. “We are on a ship in the middle of the ocean. Everything is a scandal.”

“Master Tethras, the renowned author -”

“He is here? I have not seen him at the Captain’s table -”

“That’s just it! He has taken to – well, I can scarcely believe it – he has ‘donated’ his suite to a family from _steerage_!” The word is pronounced in much the same way as one might discuss the refuse problems that yet plagued the cities of England. “He takes dinner with the riffraff!”

Cassandra smooths her skirt absently, considering this. “When you say a family, do you mean the woman with that precocious child and the twins?”

“Yes!”

“Oh.” She smiles ever so slightly. “How _improper_.”

*

Varric Tethras hates the Titanic.

Well, he considers, swiping a bottle from the crate he sits beside, he rather hates the ocean on which it sails, so getting on the ship had been his first crucial mistake. His second had been booking a room with windows.

Thankfully, below deck was welcoming – especially when he had procured enough alcohol to guarantee a quiet corner in which to write. The people were more real down here, anyway.

Except for _her_.

His eyes follow the woman, noting the steel in her stride and the curiosity in her eyes. She was clearly no stranger to poverty – the way she lightly touched the shoulders of people as she passed, the small gifts of candied fruits stowed away in a satchel that emerged for each wide-eyed child… no, she had known a life like this, once. He can see the memory of it haunting her steps.

He can also see how tall she is, how graceful, how low cut her bodice is underneath the outer coat. Hell, he can _imagine_ that part – and does, a lazy smirk on his lips as she leans forward to greet another family.

Her eyes meet his, and he rather fancies she smiles.

“You are Varric Tethras.” It is not a question. “You are in the wrong section.”

“Depends on your point of view.”

“I suppose it does.” She looks him up and down,and he cannot help the smirk when she blushes slightly. “You gave your room away.”

“Leandra needed it more. Three kids, no husband, hell of a long journey.”

“You do not care much for propriety,” she says softly, “and that is a rare and wonderful thing.”

“Are you flirting with me?” he asks, smiling wryly.

She has the good grace not to splutter. “You… you talk too much.”

“Terrible habit,” he agrees. “Would you like to see my room?”

*

His room, as it turns out, is a curtain barely covering a small corner of the room – enough space for a bed and yet another crate of something that jangles when her back thuds against it, his mouth hot against hers.

“Fuck,” he groans, and then, “oh, fucking – get this damned thing _off_ -”

“Maker take you -”

“Lady Pentaghast?” The voice is piercing through the gloom, and he covers her mouth with his hand.

“Can you be quiet?” he breathes in her ear. She nods, and he pulls back his hand, reaching down to move the layers of petticoats. His fingers are unerringly quick to find her core, and he grins against her cheek. “No underwear, my lady. _Terribly_ improper.”

Beyond the curtain, the search continues. “Have you seen the Lady Pentaghast?”

“Naah, mate. No ladies down ‘ere.”

Cassandra privately agrees, rolling her hips against Varric’s crotch. Her forehead resting against his, she meets his eyes, smiling slightly as he fumbles with his belt.. His own grin does not linger, replaced by a wonderful expression of open-mouthed desire as she slides onto his length. His hands grip her hips, rocking her slowly in a pleasant but not entirely fulfilling motion.

“Tease,” she mouths, and he quirks an eyebrow up, a challenge.

“Oh, _well_ then -”

He hoists her up, capturing her surprised noise with a kiss as he starts fucking her hard. Between the illicit location, the flimsy curtain separating them from an audience, his desperate kisses and the broad shoulders she can barely cling to, Cassandra might be in love. She swallows his heavy breaths, catches her own whimpers by burying her face in the crook of his neck, breathes in the scent of his skin.

The search party move on, still calling out for her.

The ship shudders around them, and Varric loses his balance, arms tightening around her waist as he pushes into her particularly hard. It is enough to send her over the edge, her orgasm coursing through her body, and it takes all her willpower not to scream out above him, lip crushed between her teeth. He follows quickly, his release marked only by the warmth within her and a soft hiss of breath.

He falls against the crate, and her chin rests on his head.

“You know,” he whispers in her ear, “I’d like to do that again. Later.”

She nods, pulling back to kiss him soundly. “My place next time,” she teases.

He grins, nipping at her neck. “Sounds a little fancy for my tastes.”

“Not if I sneak you in under my skirts…”

*

Varric _really_ hates the Titanic.

Well, that is less and less true, he thinks dully as he shivers in the lifeboat. He hates the people who built it. He hates the people who insisted that his life was more important than the thousands who were still -

He closes his eyes. _Maker, watch over them. They were not to blame._

He thinks of the Lady Pentaghast, of his last fleeting glimpse of her – back straight, fire in her eyes as she shepherded women from below decks. He wonders if they dragged her into a lifeboat too. He wonders if they would dare.

He hopes they did. It is a selfish thought.

Beside him, Leandra hums to her children. The night is calm, the air is still.

He wonders, as the moonlight glints off the hull of the Carpathia, what came next. The survivors are all treated the same – slim hope after their ordeal, but Varric feels a certain guilty pleasure when 'Lady’ Leandra is shown to quarters.

He lingers on the deck, watching the spot where the unsinkable ship had once been.

A hand slips into his, fingers cold and grip tight.

“It is not right, that we have survived when others -”

He pulls her in close. “Don’t go down that road,” he murmurs. “Just… don’t.”

Cassandra kisses his forehead. “I am afraid,” she says, after a long silence, “that my quarters are a lot smaller now. But you can still hide under my skirt.”

And that makes him laugh, despite himself, which he supposes is a rare and wonderful thing.


	2. The Awakening Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassandra visits Varric after hours in his comic book shop. Accidental figurine rearrangement was not the plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> circa, me! weatheredlaw!
> 
> SMUT COLLAB POWERS.... _ACTIVIATE!_

The bell over the door chimed out and Varric shouted from behind the counter, "We're closed!" He could still hear whoever was inside approaching, and his vantage point -- face in a box, digging for tomorrow's pulls -- kept him in the dark, until he heard Cassandra say coolly, "Even for your best customer?"

Varric straightened up, grinning. "You know my _best_ customer is Dorian."

"Yes," she said dryly. "Young, wealthy college boys will always managed to outdo me." She leaned forward on her elbow. "You did not respond to my message."

"Sorry." He tipped over the side of the counter just enough to kiss her cheek. "I just unpacked the last box though. Dinner?"

"In a bit. Can I help you?" She set her keys down on the glass and came around behind the register, looking at his mess. "What have you been doing?"

"Um. Putting things away."

"Putting things _away._ " She looked at the haphazard stack of comics in his hands and took them. "They can be sorted tomorrow, yes?" Varric nodded. "Good." The next half hour or so was a blur as they talked and cleaned things up. Varric usually left the place a mess Tuesday nights, coming in early to sort pulls with Daisy. She'd be impressed in the morning, so long as she didn't find out that Varric's criminally organized girlfriend helped him. 

"Better," she finally said, crumpling up the last bit of plastic wrap and tossing it in the garbage. A strand of her braid had come undone, and it became incredibly distracting as Varric tried, desperately, to competently close out his register for the night. She was starting to do that sort of thing more and more often. He didn't particularly _mind_ , of course. But...well. But nothing. That was it. He realized with a jolt he didn't mind anything she did, and, when he had printed and torn the last receipt, he stapled it all and turned to smile at her. "What?" she asked, completely unaware of what she was doing to him.

"We should order something and eat it here."

"There is takeout next door."

"I know, it'll get here _real_ fast."

 

 

 

Varric could not be blamed, later, for what happened. Honestly, he put it all on the absolutely _salacious_ ways the woman in front of him was able to use chopsticks. And eat rice. And simply just... _exist._ Sometimes he forgot just how incredible she was -- and suddenly his head was filled with a hundred different things he'd rather be doing than eating. When she set her container on the little card table in the back and smiled at him, Varric was a goner. 

"You keep looking at me," she said.

"I'm thinking."

"About?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" 

Cassandra dabbed around her lips with a napkin, took a sip of water and said, "Yes." 

Varric's cock _twitched._

He thought he was going to get to explain all the lewd and lascivious thoughts that were knocking around his brain, but he suddenly had a lapful of Cassandra, and she had her hands in his hair, his lips on his, and Varric didn't even have time to make up some kind of excuse for the hardon she could _definitely_ feel through her ridiculously tight jeans -- the ones that were in the way of Varric really being able to palm her ass the way he wanted to. 

"Why the clothes?"

"I am not going to stop wearing _clothes_ , Varric--"

"I mean, you could for, like, an hour. Right now."

She pulled back, glancing down at him with an eyebrow raised. Pointedly, purposefully, she reached down and grabbed the hem of her blouse and yanked it over her head. Varric groaned, and realized that they were going to have sex for the first time -- _please, please, don't let it be the last time_ \-- in the back of his shop. Probably right there on the table. He groaned again when she undid the hooks of her bra, and Varric brought a nipple into his mouth without thinking twice about it. She hissed at the contact, the other hardening under his thumb as he circled it. 

" _Varric--_ "

"Is there a problem?"

"The problem is you are wearing too much clothing."

He laughed and steadied his hands under her thighs, lifting her completely up and setting her on the table. "You're too right." Quickly, he undid the buttons of his shirt, feeling her nails scrape over his shoulders as she helped him push it of. "Easy, easy. There's time."

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean I don't _want--_ " She moaned, cutting herself off when Varric tilted his hand to suck on the bend of her neck, his hand returning to her breast. Cassandra threaded her fingers through his hair, scraping over his scalp. She tipped her head back, giving him better access, and Varric went to town. She'd complain later about the marks his stubble made, or maybe the redness left behind from his teeth. But if it was important, he couldn't find it in himself to care. He brought his hands down to his belt, undoing it to get at the button-fly of his jeans. Cassandra jerked when she heard the metal hit the floor, and she looked at him.

"It's, uh, not happening to fast for you, right?" Varric felt self-conscious now, watching her eyes trail down his chest toward his hips, where she could clearly see his hand working under the waistband of his boxers to palm at his desperate cock. "I'm--" She kissed him, pulled her feet up and _shoved_ , forcing his boxers around his ankles. "Okay then."

"Fuck me," she said, then grew very red, stammering. "I-I mean, you should--"

"Cassandra." He practically _growled_ at her, and she froze, staring at him as he slipped his fingers over the button and zipper of her jeans. "Just tell me where." 

"Yes."

"Good." Varric managed to lift her and slide her jeans off her hips and down her thighs. They caught just under her knee until he yanked them off with her flats and tossed them over his shoulder. Varric grunted when she reached down the stroke him, and heard her whine when he bent out of sight to dig out the condom he'd put in his back pocket last weekend on a whim. When he met her gaze again, her eyebrow was raised, lips curled into a smile. "I, uh, well. You can never be too careful--"

"My request still stands, doesn't it?"

"Holy shit, yeah." Varric shook his head, wondering if he had dreamed her up completely -- but, no, she was still there, and he reached out to test her want by sliding his fingers up her thighs, brushing the wetness that had already dripped down them. She bit her lip, but didn't look away from him. Cassandra wasn't ashamed of anything -- how bad she wanted him included. He watched her mouth fall open as he pushed inside, just against her clit, swollen in anticipation. "Damn, you're beautiful."

"That does not _change_ what I -- _oh._ " Her eyes fell closed as he stroked, circled her clit and kissed her jaw. "Varric, please--"

"Did you need something?"

"You _know_ what I need."

"Yeah, but I could always do with a repeat--"

She gritted her teeth. " _Fuck. Me._ " 

It took his breath away.

"Right." He lifted her, turning and shoving them both against one of his sturdier shelves. The little figurines inside jostled, a few tipped over -- he'd get Sebastian to clean it tomorrow he suddenly thought, and then regretted thinking of Sebastian _immediately._ Cassandra pulled him back in, silencing his traitorous thoughts with a kiss as she planted her feet firmly on the ground, spread her legs, and guided him inside her. 

It was...so much better, than what he'd imagined. She was toned and strong and had perfect control over every thrust. Varric groaned as he pushed in and in, wondering if he'd be able to actually do what she asked without just _coming._ But he held it together. He was a grown man, he could fuck his incredibly gorgeous girlfriend in the back of his store without preamble and he could do it with grace and style and...something. Words. Varric was having trouble thinking of them. 

Cassandra's _moaning_ was dragging it out.

For some reason he'd always imagined she'd be quiet during sex. That sort of stern sensibility he admired in her so much would translate easily into love making. Varric would be borderline desperate for her, but she would remain resolute and beautiful.

She remained beautiful. Collected? Not so much. 

Her mouth hung open as he started to fuck her faster, pleading for more. "Harder, _harder--_ " She gripped the edge of the cabinet and he heard more things falling over. Varric groaned, each snap of his hips pulling him further into her. She clenched around him, teased him without meaning to, and pulled his hair. He was in pain, he thought, but realized with a start that it was a kind of overwhelming pleasure. 

"Hold on--" He pulled out, and she nearly sobbed as Varric grabbed her and shoved her back against the table again, bending her at the waist. The glass on the cabinet had a wet spot. So did the table where she'd sat earlier. Varric felt another surge of need and he put a hand on her back, watching her scrabble against the table as he stroked his cock over her entrance again, finding the right spot and rolling his hips. She cried out as he entered her, forehead pressed against the table. Varric squeezed her ass with his other hand, gave it a light smack before trailing down to her thigh. She was still dripping and he was still going. He wondered how long he could do this, how much --

 _Oh_ , and it hit him. It hit him without warning. The way she said his name, the way she screamed, _more_ , and Varric was going to come. 

"Cassandra, I--"

"Do it, _do it_ \--" 

With a groan, he fucked into her twice more and came, grabbing her hips and holding her against him as he spasmed, trying to maintain some kind of control. 

Cassandra was trembling under him, and she hadn't come and she needed to come -- Varric pulled out and rolled her onto her back, dropping down to his knees and yanking her legs over his shoulders. He buried his face against her and felt her fingers fly against her clit as she brought herself off. He thrust two fingers, then three into her, watched her as she looked down to meet his gaze. She didn't tell him when it hit her -- she tightened around his fingers and Varric moaned, resting his head against her thigh as she cried out, voice breaking over him, catching at all the right notes. 

Eventually, she pulled her legs off his shoulders, and, trembling, stood to find her shirt. 

"Holy shit," Varric finally said. He needed to get rid of this condom, and maybe shower? Definitely shower. When he came back to her, she was sitting on the table in her blouse and underwear, digging through their takeout bag for a fortune cookie. "You know those things are made--"

"Yes, yes," she said, waving her hand. "Sometimes they are...fun."

"As fun as what we just did?" he asked her, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. She turned and caught his lips instead, bringing her hand up to cup his chin. He sighed into her mouth. "Alright, open it up." Varric bent down to get his shirt and pull up his pants, watching her tear open the plastic and break open the cookie. She split it with him -- even after the fucking, it was weirdly intimate. 

She uncurled the little paper and read it to herself, before making a noise and handing it to him.

Varric took one look and began to shake with laughter.

"It is not funny."

"It _really_ is."

" _Ugh._ " She put on her pants and looked around. "We made a mess."

"I'll clean it tomorrow."

"You have excuses for _that?_ " She pointed at the wet spot, and Varric's neck flushed.

"Ah." He picked up her bra and wiped at the table. "There."

"You are a perfect gentleman," she said dryly, and went to stuff it in her purse. 

Varric chuckled again, leaving the fortune and take out on the table. He'd take care of it tomorrow. 

"You should follow me home, see if the fortune counts twice," he said, locking the door up behind him as they headed into the night.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I mean, it said, _You will get lucky._ " Varric smacked her ass as she went to her car, and she rolled her eyes. "Think you're up to getting lucky again?


	3. A Man To Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elections are stressful. Good thing Senator Tethras and his campaign manager are so good at managing it, and each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another circa weatheredlaw.
> 
> i will not apologize for anything to anyone ever. not even once.

All Cassandra could hear, all should could _think_ about, was the wet, lewd smack of Varric's hips against her own, the way he groaned every time he thrust into her, murmuring to her how good she felt, how proud he was that she could take so much. Bent over her desk, Cassandra felt his cock move inside her, felt his hands grip her hips tighter, and she threw her head back and screamed as she came. 

"That's right, _that's right_ \--" Varric groaned and gripped her hips harder, fucking her through the aftershocks and leaning forward. "Who else does this for you, Cassandra? Who else makes you feel this way?"

"N-nobody," she managed, gasping as he reached forward and squeezed her breast through her blouse. They hadn't even undressed -- his slacks were somewhere at his knees and her skirt was shoved up over her hips, her underwear caught somewhere around her ankles. " _Oh--_ " She tried to lean against his arm, but he pulled back, slid his fingers through her hair, and _pulled._ " _Varric!_ "

"I love it when you say my name. Do it again."

"Varric! Please--"

"Please _what?_ "

She screamed again as he slowed down, almost sobbing. "Please, just...fuck me--"

"I'm sorry, was this not enough for you? Was me _taking_ you, owning you right here on your own desk not _enough_ , Cassandra?"

"I want more."

"You want more." He growled, pulling out of her completely and forcing her hands into the chair in front of her desk. "You always want _more_." He thrust into her again. 

"And you always give it," she spat at him. 

With a laugh, he pulled completely out of her again, grabbing her by the back of her shirt and yanking. "You should try taking for once," he said. His hand stroked over his cock as he sat down in another chair, knees apart. "Get over here." Cassandra complied, crawling into his lap and pulling up her skirt. "Ride me." 

"Yes, _sir_." She gripped the chair for support and wrapped her hand around his cock, guiding it inside her. He felt amazing in every position, but she could so clearly feel the way he filled her like this, adored every slow inch that pushed into her. " _Varric--_ "

"Come on," he said, and when she looked at him she saw how lost he was. His eyes were blown dark with need and pleasure, mouth parted, lips wet -- Cassandra kissed him, something they didn't do very often, something she didn't always want to do. Varric seemed surprised, but he reacted quickly, gripping her arms and pulling her close. Pausing to breathe, he looked at her. " _Harder,_ " he said. "I know you can."

Emboldened by his command, Cassandra nodded and, placing both hands on his shoulders and pushing up with her knees, she slid him almost completely out before she _dropped_ , taking every bit of him. It shook her, and she screamed, and Varric shouted her name, burying his face against her chest as she fucked him again and again and again. 

Eventually, he stopped her, pushed her away and onto her knees. "I need to come," he said. "And you're going to take it." Cassandra nodded, letting him shove his cock into her mouth. She took it, feeling her own wetness spread across her tongue as she tasted him. He held her head and fucked her mouth, slowly, and Cassandra stroked the base of his cock, drew her fingers along the exposed skin of his hip, and sucked until he came.

When she finally pulled back, she looked up to see Varric smiling down at her, the expression on his face endeared as he stroked her cheek. "Beautiful," he said.

"Are you pleased?"

"Almost." He urged her up and guided her back to the desk before he brushed his fingers between her legs, slowly tracing around her clit. "You've got another in you, I know it."

"I--"

"You were so good tonight. You did so well. Everything about you was beautiful. I wanna see you come undone, you know that?"

"Yes, _yes--_ "

"I'll let you pick me apart, Cassandra. I'll let you hold me down, I'll let you do what you want with me. Would you want that?" His strokes became slower and she whined, but he didn't let up. "Answer me."

" _Yes!_ I want that, I want you, I want you to be mine, I want you always, I--"

"Come. You need to, I can feel it. Come for me, Cassandra." She nodded frantically and, with a jolt that ran through her, she felt her release, her head snapping back and her mouth falling open in a silent scream, until nothing was left but the point by which she and Varric were connected, in the most intimate place. And then he kissed her, and she dissolved.

"You...are incredible," she managed.

"I'm only as good as you make me be." He pulled her up from the desk, helping her adjust her clothes. "In this. In all things."

"After the election--"

"Let's not think about the after."

"Varric, despite...all of this--" She glanced at the mess they'd made of his desk. "I am still responsible for certain--"

"Hey. Let's do something fun."

"You are derailing the conversation."

"I am. Because I'm hoping you'll let me get you a drink and take you home and we can take our clothes off properly."

Cassandra flushed. "Oh."

"Mmhm. What do you say?"

She reached down to pull her underwear up awkwardly, aware of his gaze. She checked her hair quickly and, turning to him, said, "That would be fine, Senator. But I believe I will call the shots for the remainder of the evening."

Varric put a hand over his heart. "You are too good for me."

"Probably," she said, and bent down to kiss his cheek. "But let's not worry about that."


	4. The Turn of the Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Pentaghast does not like Professor Tethras. And no amount of oral sex is going to change her mind. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weatheredlaw here, bringing you porn where no one puts their dick in anyone. seriously. doesn't happen here.

"So we're doing this again?" Varric leaned back against her desk as Cassandra shut and locked her office door. She laid the key beside his hand. 

"Try not to sound excited about it."

"I'm always excited about you, professor."

She raised an eyebrow, shrugging out of her jacket and tossing it onto her desk chair. "The feeling is not always mutual, Tethras."

He turned and grabbed her wrist -- gently, but holding the promise of something more. "But for tonight you'll make an exception?"

"Yes," she said simply. She turned to sit in her chair, and found him already on his knees. It sent a shiver down her spine. "Eager, I take it?"

"To get my mouth on you? Always." Varric slid his hands up her thighs, stroking just behind her knees as he caught the hem of her dress. "Did you wear this for me?" he asked quietly. She blushed, furious at being found out, ashamed that she was so obvious. "It's alright," he said. "Makes things a little easier."

"I didn't -- _oh._ " He'd bent his head and nipped at her thigh, drawing a moan from deep within her chest. "Well, if it is _easier_ , then why haven't you--" She hissed, feeling his fingers make contact with the fabric of her underwear.

"Someone's been thinking about me."

"I was not thinking about _you_ ," she spat. Cassandra didn't care for Varric, hardly respected him outside of their share profession. She had been thinking of being touched, being pleasured, being allowed to give in. If Varric happened to be the one who did that for her -- and, perhaps, more regularly than she would have liked -- then that was simply the way it was. Nonetheless, he succeeded at pleasing her like no one else had in years, and it was equal parts exciting and incredibly frustrating. 

When he reached for the waistband of her underwear, Cassandra looked down, catching his gaze directly by accident. He paused, watching her, and she was aware her mouth hung half-open in anticipation, waiting for what was next, desperately needing everything he was going to give her. Cassandra felt herself nod, and she saw Varric grin.

" _Ugh._ "

"What? I can't be excited?"

"Get on with it."

"So _pushy,_ " he muttered, and, with a flick of his wrists and a shove of his hands, lifted her ass off the chair and yanked down her underwear. 

Cassandra expected a bit more of his usual wit, but wasn't disappointed when she got his tongue instead. 

He made a broad sweep at first, going slow, teasing. She could feel his stubble on her thighs, but she knew from experience that it would leave a redness that she'd touch herself and think about for days. He knew exactly which place set her off, knew that she liked it when he drew back to bite at her thighs every so often. Cassandra pulled her legs up, draping them over his shoulders and leaning back in her chair. She felt otherworldly in this position -- like she didn't quite deserve it, like the pleasure and posture of her own body belonged to a woman of another time, of a different status. Cassandra hardly felt royal enough to be worshipped like this, but here it was. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when he pushed a finger inside of her, curving up and stroking. Cassandra moaned, gripping the arm of her chair with one hand, his hair with the other. He focused his tongue on her clit as she fingered her, adding a second finger and thrusting hard. Sometimes he would pull out, only to bring his tongue flat against her again, dragging his hands over her thighs, squeezing her legs. Then he would return, and fuck her open again, this time circling her clit with his thumb and looking up at her. Cassandra kept her gaze on the movements of his hands and mouth, digging her heels into his back. He never disappointed, and he never quit until she came. Sometimes it was too fast, sometimes it took ages -- tonight, she felt close, like she'd been ready for it all day. Varric began fingering her in earnest, taking her hand and bringing it closer, letting her feel how wet she was.

"Touch yourself," he said, he voice wavering. "Make yourself come."

Cassandra nodded, pressing two fingers against her clit as watched, feeling him inside her, wondering if his cock was as good -- 

She'd never asked him to fuck her, and he'd never pushed. It was just their way. But for the first time, she wondered. She wondered if he secretly wanted to, she wondered if the desire lived in her own heart, and she was too stubborn to see it. 

The idea of letting him fuck her for the first time, was not enough to bring her over the edge. But the idea that she could make him come -- that sent her body into a tailspin, and she came with a shout, clenching around his fingers, back arching away from the chair.

Varric lazily thrust his fingers a few more times before drawing them out, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean, one by one. Cassandra was still coming down, still reeling. She could have tapped herself and come again, but she didn't. She brought her legs down and looked at the growing bulge in his slacks. Usually he left. He wouldn't let her suck him off very often, and when she did he always seemed...bored. There was nothing to it the way there was when he was on his knees in front of her, he'd said. Jacking off in his shower, thinking about the noises she made -- that got him hot and bothered.

But tonight, Cassandra didn't want him to leave like that. She slid out of her chair before he could get off the ground, falling gently onto her knees and kissing him. They didn't kiss anymore than she blew him, so she wasn't surprised that he took a few seconds to react to her, finally bringing his hands to her waist and drawing her closer. Cassandra pulled away to let him kiss her neck, pressing her lips to his ears.

"I want to see you come," she murmured.

Varric choked.

"Um--"

"I want you to touch yourself, and I want to see you come."

"Cassandra--"

"Do it," she said. 

"Holy shit."

"Is that a yes?"

He laughed, reaching for his belt and grinning. "That's a yes _ma'am_." He didn't bother taking anything off. He simply drew out his cock, already hard and red in his palm, and stroked. Cassandra pressed herself closer to him, feeling his hands stroking himself through her dress, feeling his erection against her stomach. She kept her arms wrapped around his neck, her mouth against his ear.

"This is what I pictured."

"When you came?" he asked.

"Yes."

" _Fuck_ \--"

"You never let me. Don't you know that I want to help you, too?" Cassandra moved her hands down to her legs, raising her dress up so she could feel his cock against her bare skin. His hand bumped her stomach as his strokes became quicker. "I think of you in my mouth when I'm home. I lay in bed and think of the way you taste. I think of you fucking my mouth. You're so desperate for it, you always take it. Don't you know I want that?" She reached down, dipping two fingers between her folds, slipping them against her clit. Varric panted against her neck, moaning when he felt her arm, felt her hand reach between them to touch herself.

"You're unbelievable."

"Don't you like it?"

"Of course I fucking _like_ it." His words were strained, voice stretched thin. "I need it. _Fuck_ , Cassandra, I _need-_ "

"Tell me."

He moaned. "I need to come. Let me come."

Cassandra's hand moved quicker and she nodded. "Do it."

"Come with me."

"Yes," she said, panting into his neck. "I want to, _yes_ \--" She pulled her dress up higher, rolled her hips and dug her teeth into his shoulder as she screamed, felt her release and his own. Varric groaned, grabbing her with one hand and pulling her tight as he came. She felt it slide against her stomach, drip down, down, until his come rolled down her thighs. They stayed like that for a moment, wound together, tucked tight against one another. Eventually, Varric untangled himself from her, looking down at the mess he'd made.

" _Shit--_ "

Cassandra rocked back on her heels, vision still trying to focus. "Hmm?" She looked down. "Oh. Here." She handed him the tissue box on her desk, and he yanked out a handful and wiped her stomach and legs clean. "I don't mind," she said quietly.

"Pretty sure you shouldn't go out like that."

"Well of course I shouldn't," she snapped. "I didn't mean--"

" _And_ we're back. You killed the moment." 

Cassandra rolled her eyes, standing on shaky legs. "We were not having a moment."

"Dunno." Varric stood with her, tucking his cock back into his slacks and buttoning them. "It felt like a moment."

"If it was, it has passed."

"Yeah, because you killed it."

"I am not entertaining this--" Varric pulled her in, silencing her with a kiss. Cassandra reacted quicker than she thought she mights, tipping her head to get a better angle, her hand finding its way into his hair. After a few moments, Cassandra pulled back, breathless, and sat back in her chair. "That was...nice."

"It was." Varric stepped back, looking for his jacket and grabbing it up. "So I was thinking that tomorrow I'd take you out for dinner."

Cassandra scowled. "Why would I agree to that?"

"You don't have to. It would just be nice if you did."

She considered him for a moment before nodding. "Alright. I will have dinner with you."

"Excellent."

"Pick me up at seven." She scribbled down her address and passed it over. "Don't be late. Dress appropriately."

"Can I be early? Can I wear what I’m wearing right now?"

"No. To both."

Varric sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I guess I walked into that one."

"Yes, well--" Cassandra pulled him forward and kissed him again. "I prefer not to wait for the things that I want."


	5. Battle of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vehlr, reporting for duty with too many feels!

They weren’t talking.

He hates it. He hates the bitter gulf between them, the distance they both keep – and he can’t even honestly say he is trying to fix it. She stays in her quarters, and he stays in his. They’re less of a _they_ , these days, and he fears losing her altogether. He’s forgotten how to approach her, how to lure her back with words and smiles, how to reach her heart once more.

He is lost for words, and he hates it.

*

For once, he is early to rise, the sun creeping down the wall as he stares at the ceiling. His sheets do not smell of her anymore. With heavy heart, he hoists himself from the comfort of sleep and sets to bathe.

“Oh! You -”

He turns to find Cassandra in the doorway, loose shirt and tight breeches and all the softness he misses. He almost expects to see that smirk she saved just for him, but he doubts he could be so lucky.

She stares, eyes huge and dark, and she swallows.

“Uhm.”

Her voice is tight, strangled, and his look of surprise gives way to a smile.

“In the interest of full disclosure,” he says in a low voice, “I wasn't exactly expecting company.”

“Uh... uh-huh...” Her head tilts, eyes fixed on his chest and a blush creeping over her face.

“Cassandra?”

She blinks, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “You are – ah, you are quite... naked...”

“Just heading to the tub,” he points out, smirking. “Why are you here?”

“I, uhm. I.” She swallows, and something in her gaze changes as she meets his eyes. “Oh, Maker take you,” she breathes, crossing the room and pushing him against the bed, lips hot against his.

He is solid and warm and hard against her, and her shirt rides up her waist as she straddles him, hands grasping for purchase on his shoulders. He responds with vigour, hips bucking against hers as his fingers grapple with buckles and buttons.

“Buttons,” he growls against her mouth, and the noise that escapes her throat goes straight to his cock, a shiver in its wake.

“Fuck me,” she whispers.

“I thought we weren’t talking -”

She laughs, breathy and awfully endearing as she pulls back, hands framing his face. “I never said anything about talking,” she points out.

He grabs her waist, picking her up with ease as he flips their positions, ripping the tunic open. “Have it your way,” he says, trailing his tongue over her skin. She breathes in sharply, and he grins, hands trailing over her hips as his thumbs catch the edge of her trousers. _This_ , he remembers – how to make her sing with a touch. A language he can never forget.

He yanks her trousers down, a murmured prayer of thanks for her continuing lack of underwear. His fingers flick over the sensitive bud, her cry sending a fire through him. He lowers his mouth to her core, tongue flat against her lips, and her hands slide into his hair as she moans. Her hips buck against him, and he drowns in her, aches for the sensations -

His heart aches.

“Fuck me –“

“No.” He pulls back, looking her in the eyes. Her gaze is glassy, eyes huge and dark, and he swallows.

“Varric –“

“No,” he repeats, quieter now as he presses a kiss to her stomach. “Because if I fuck you, we’re back to not talking when you’re done. And I _miss_ you, Seeker. I can’t even remember why we weren’t talking, but… I’m so tired of it.” He kisses her thigh, sitting back on his heels and drawing light fingers over her calf. “I just –“

“Varric.” She pushes herself up, smile gentle. “I miss you too.”

He chuckles softly. “You’re just saying that so I’ll pound you from behind,” he teases.

“I am not!” She suddenly looks uncertain. “I – I came here to… to lie with you. I thought… I thought if I woke up with you, we might –“

He grabs her wrists, pulling her in close as he kisses her, slow and soft. She sighs into the action, her body relaxing against him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“You do not have to –“

“Yeah, I do.” He rests his forehead against hers. “I’m an ass.”

She chuckles. “Me too,” she says softly. “Forgive me?”

He stares at her for a long moment. “ _Always_ , Seeker.”

He pushes her back down against the bed, hips rocking against hers as he trails kisses down her neck. Her breath catches, fingers entwined with his.

“Varric – Varric, please -”

“I'm not gonna fuck you, Seeker,” he murmurs, and smirks into her skin when her fingers tighten around his sharply.

“Varric!”

“I'm going to do something better.”

“I need -”

He pulls his hands away, grabbing her waist and hoisting her up and over his cock. “Look at me,” he whispers, and she cups his face in her hands.

And then he lowers her slowly, his own breath halted and stuttered as she envelops him, hot and wet and gorgeous and _oh Maker, Cassandra_ -

She makes an achingly soft noise, eyes fluttering closed as she sinks onto his length. “Varric -”

“I'm gonna make love to you,” he whispers softly, hands dropping to her hips as her forehead rests against his. “Is that alright?”

“Yes – oh, yes, Varric -” She smiles, bright and beautiful above him, and his heart lightens, smile soft.

“I love the way you feel, Seeker,” he growls, feeling her tighten around him in response to the tone. “ _Fuck_ , I love the way you make _me_ feel -”

“Talking,” she gasps, hips rocking against him.

“Oh, was I not supposed to?” He grins, the teasing tone punctuated with a thrust, and her arms wrap around his neck as she cries out again.

“ _Please_ -”

“Easy, now.” He starts a slow rhythm, each careful movement rewarded with a noise. He kisses her, hungry for her passion as he swallows her whimpers and whines, one hand reaching between them to tease at the hard nub between her legs.

“You're so _good_ , Seeker, so good on my cock -”

“ _Ah_ – please, please, I want -”

“Tell me,” he whispers, “I'll do whatever you want.”

She drags her teeth over his bottom lip, letting it slip out before she meets his eyes again. “Harder, Varric.”

This was it, this was their language, the give and take of desire. This was where her words were enough, where his words were a prize to be savoured, where touch and taste and sound collided in passionate embrace. Fights would come and go, but this transcended all.

She trembles around him, and he knows she is close, sweat-slicked skin and writhing limbs and the eagerness in her moans urging him on and on.

“Look at me,” he pants, “Maker, Cassandra, _look_ at me – I need to see -”

“Come with me,” she begs, fist tight in his hair. “Please, my love, please, come with me.”

His fingers tighten around her hips, a ragged moan as his body responds to her pleas. “Yes – oh, fuck, _yes_ -” He comes undone, spilling inside her as her back arches, her own release a shuddering mess around him as she cries out his name before falling back breathless against the bed, pulling him with her.

His forehead rests against her chest, his breath ragged as his body rails against him. “Fuck,” he utters, laughing. “Oh, I missed you.”

She chuckles underneath him, low and rumbling against his head. “Are you talking to me or my breasts?”

He drags his teeth over a nipple, and she gasps, twitching around him. “Ah – you, actually.”

She wriggles, and he lets her go, eyes closing as she slides off him.

His arm drapes over her waist, and he smiles up at her as she shuffles against the pillows. “I missed you,” he repeats, softer now. “Let's not fight like that again.”

“Agreed,” she murmurs, her arm tucking over his shoulder and pulling him in closer. “I am sorry, for my part. I have been... lonely, without you.”

He nuzzles her neck lightly. “Me too. Agree to disagree next time?”

“There will be a next time?”

“I'm not an idiot, Seeker. We're never going to agree on everything – just the important things.”

She smiles, closing her eyes. “Alright. I can bear that.”

Varric chuckles. “ _Bear_. Only you, Seeker...”


	6. Wild For To Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This must be what they mean by "catch and release," Varric realizes, shifting on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weatheredlaw here, departing from smutty novel territory into intensely repressed feelings translated into orgasm denial. enjoy.

This must be what they mean by "catch and release," Varric realizes, shifting on the bed. He's been loosely tied to his own headboard for over half an hour, and every time he thinks of the way Cassandra's hips swayed as she shut the door behind her, his cock twitches, just a bit. There's no way for him to start rutting up against something like a teenager, no way to touch himself. He could, if he wanted, escape from the weak bindings around his wrists, and Cassandra knows that. But she also knows he won't, because they agreed to this, talked about it several times, experimented and negotiated until, finally, they had it right. Varric huffs, and he's wondering how much longer she'll be, when the door opens and she comes in, bolting it shut behind her.

She doesn't acknowledge him. She doesn't look at him. Varric breathes.

There's a tub by the fire she had brought in some time earlier. It's still hot, the base rigged with a couple of runes Dagna whipped up at Dorian's insistence some weeks back. Cassandra takes full advantage of it now, trailing her hand through the water and beginning to rid herself of her clothes. Varric watches, remembers the way it felt the first time he undressed her and fucked her in the tub, water sloshing over the edge, her hands gripping the metal sides as she screamed his name. The way her breasts looked under the water, how Varric came and she pushed him back and stood on her knees, rubbed frantic circles around her clit until her orgasm rocked them both and she almost fell out of the tub.

He stares, openly, and practically pants at the memory, his cock hard, aching, leaking against him. Cassandra slides into the bath and begins to wash herself. 

And, still, they're quiet. The both of them. She cleans her skin without a word, and Varric thinks of the taste of her, silently. The only noise is the ripple of water, the release of it when she squeezes the soft rag. He smells the soap she uses, something decadent she buys for herself when they're in Val Royeaux, an indulgence to keep herself sane. When the world ends, at least she'll smell like a Chantry garden. 

Eventually she leans back, resting her head on the edge of the tub and closing her eyes. Varric could reach out and touch her if he was untied, but he's still blissfully held back, watching her every movement, eyes fixed on her lips as they part, suddenly. He realizes she's reached down between her legs, and she's touching herself, the motion of it making little waves in the water. She breathes in, chest expanding and forcing her breasts out of the water, for just a moment, before she relaxes. Still, she doesn't look at him. Now Varric pants openly, watching, imagining how to must look. Cassandra moans, the first real sound either of them as made. She moans and Varric sees her move quicker, rapidly pleasing herself. He watches as her other hand dips down, and he realizes she's pushing her own fingers into her cunt. His hips jerk sympathetically, aching to be the thing that pushes against her, pushes _into_ her.

And _still_ \-- Varric doesn't dare open his mouth. He knows if he says anything, she'll stop. This is the first time they're doing this -- he'll risk pushing those boundaries later, when he already knows how far they're both willing to go. For now, he's content -- even though he isn't -- to watch. He knows if he's quiet, Cassandra will come, and she'll get out of the tub and then...something will happen. He's not sure if she's going to fuck him, or if she's going to dry off and leave him there again. He wouldn't put it past her. He might even welcome it, give him time to construct a few more fantasies, get him good and ready for the slick heat of her cunt as she slides down his length, envelops him in her body, takes him so hard her breasts jolt with the force of it, grips his arms and _owns_ him -- 

Cassandra gasps, chest and hips punching up as she comes. Varric moans, and her eyes snap open, fly to his and he regrets it almost instantly, thinks that he's fucked this up, he didn't want to push her here tonight, maybe another night, maybe -- 

Cassandra gets out of the tub, but she doesn't dry off. She stands in front of the fire on trembling legs, catching her breath. Back to him, Varric admires the swell of her ass, the tone of her thigh muscles that seem to flutter in the shaking flame. She finally stands up straight and turns to look at him, her expression completely blank. Varric isn't sure if she's angry, arouses, intrigued -- she could have a headache and Varric wouldn't know. He watches her, and she closes the little bit of distance between them, her face hovering over his. Varric tilts up, tries to kiss her.

She pulls back.

He absolutely does not whimper. Not even a little bit.

When he focuses, he realizes she's digging through his armoire for something to wear, and he nearly moans again when she picks out an old tunic of his. His clothes in her hands. He could write sonnets about this, if he wasn't completely lost. Varric knows if he tries to speak right, he'll waver. His voice will fail him. He will not have the words to express how this makes him feel, and that's saying a lot. Or nothing at all, depending on how you see it. Cassandra slides the tunic over her head, the fabric falling just above the curve of her ass. She turns to him, as if daring him to wonder aloud if that's his shirt -- he knows it is -- and what she plans to do next while wearing it -- he has some idea.

She comes to the bed, tilting her head to the side to look at him. He's got a quip for this in his head, but it dies the second she begins crawling toward him. Her breath ghosts over his cock for only a second, and it takes every ounce of willpower he has left not to rut against any part of her he can reach. She stops, nose to nose, and looks down at him. Says nothing. _Kisses him._ Varric moves with her, slides his tongue into her mouth and strains against his bindings. He might come from this alone, the raw sensation of her lips on his, the knowledge that something could come after, and she is in complete control of it.

She is aware of what she is doing. Aware that every decision up until now has been made with his need for her in mind. And she will deprive him of it for as long as she can wait. 

Varric suspects Cassandra could wait for a long time.

Without a word, though, she swings her leg over his hip and grinds against his erection. He feels the fabric of his shirt -- _his shirt his shirt his shirt_ \-- press against his cock. Cassandra lifts up the hem, lets him see her finger sliding against her clit, dipping into her cunt. She's so wet, so fucking _wet_ \-- Varric can hear the noise of her fingers slipping in and out, and he wants to bury himself in her. He wants to fuck her senseless, have her screaming. But that's her job, tonight. That's what she promised she would do, and suddenly she's wrapped her fingers around his cock, brushing him against her. Their eyes meet, and Varric nods.

She drops.

They both cry out, but they are also both gone. 

She takes him, owns him, and suddenly her voice breaks over them, and Varric clings to it. 

"This is mine," she says. "You said I could have it, you said it belonged to me. Do you like it now? Do you like this--"

" _Yes, fuck, yes--_ "

"Tell me how it feels."

" _Fuck_ , perfect. It feels perfect, you feel so fucking good--"

"Tell me who you belong to."

"You, Seeker--"

She _snarls,_ stills herself completely, holding his cock inside of her. "My _name_ , Varric."

" _Cassandra_ \--" She moves again and Varric chokes. He's going to come, but he knows what she wants, he knows what she needs to hear. "Please--"

"What?"

"Let me come, fuck, just let me come--" 

Cassandra lifts herself up and off of him and Varric is not ashamed of the pleading, desperate noise he makes. "Why should I?" She crawls toward him, dragging herself against his chest, smearing her wetness against him. "Are you so eager to be done with me?"

"No, I--"

"Such a clever tongue. So practiced." She pushes herself up, hovering now over his mouth. "Put it to good use, and I will help you, my love." 

_My love._

Varric swoons, and Cassandra presses her cunt to his lips, moaning when his tongue flicks out. She rolls her hips, supporting herself on the headboard. Any other time, Varric would grab her hips and take what he wanted, but she is the master of her own needs. She sets a pace, and Varric does his best to please her, fucks her with his tongue. He can feel spit and come sliding down his jaw, trailing over his neck. Cassandra moves faster, takes more, demands more, and when she comes Varric can _feel it_ on his tongue. 

And then nothing. 

He stares up at the expanse of his ceiling, searching for her, but she is already sliding down, back to his cock, trailing her fingers over the length of him. He bucks his hips and she only smiles. 

"You should see your face," she murmurs. Varric makes a noise. "I love you so much," she says. "You've been so good for me. You can come now." She curls her fingers around his cock and strokes, slow and teasing. But it's enough. Varric thrusts into her hand, staring right at her as he moans, he release almost painful. He arches his back, strains against the ties at his wrist, and feels his own come stripe his chest. 

He thinks he may have died.

But he hasn't, he realizes. He hasn't, and suddenly Cassandra is rising up to undo the sashes binding his wrists. She rises, soaks on in the tub of water and returns to clean his chest and the sweat from his forehead. Varric shivers under her touch and, when she finishes and climbs back into bed, he tucks himself against her, burying his face against her neck.

"You may speak now," she says softly, stroking his hair. Varric groans and she laughs. "You did not use our word." They had gone to Bull to sort out a few things, working out a word they could use if things went too far. They had decided on "shield." Bull thought it was endearing.

"Didn't need to."

"Was it alright?" she asks, voice tinged with doubt. Varric looks up at her, sees it in her expression. He shakes his head and kisses her.

"No. It was perfect. It was exactly what we needed." Cassandra sighs, drawing him closer. "Damn that shirt looks good on you."

"It does, doesn't it? I will keep it, I think."

Varric laughs. "By all means." They stretch out together, Cassandra stroking lazy circles on the back of his neck while Varric closes his eyes. He's exhausted, sated, happy -- a good combo, he thinks, as he leans up again to kiss her before sleep takes him.

"Ever tell you how much I love you, Seeker?"

"You have," she says, and Varric is drifting off, losing sight of her. "But I do not tire of hearing it."

 _That's good,_ he thinks. _Because I don't get tired of saying it._


	7. If Today Be Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, no. Keep the skirt on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dear orillia, this is for you. love, weatheredlaw

“Holy shit.”

“You have said that.”

“ _Holy shit._ ”

She makes a noise in her throat and shakes her head. Varric is rapidly acquiring the most uncomfortable erection he’s had in weeks, not since he came home and found her in _his_ bed, wearing _his_ shirt, smelling like _his_ soap –

“I’m gonna kiss you.”

Cassandra laughs, bringing a hand to her mouth. It sounds almost startled, as if they were both expected to take the situation very seriously.

The situation being: Varric letting himself into her apartment and finding her wearing her old Chantry school uniform. The shoes, apparently, no longer fit.

“Neither does this,” she adds, but Varric tugs her down and shoves their mouths together sloppily. It’s been a long day, and he hasn’t seen her since, fuck, when? Tuesday? Doesn’t matter. She’s here, insisting she was just cleaning out her closet and became a bit curious about something she knows she must have had a reason to keep –

“I disagree,” he finally says, feeling like the luckiest fucking dwarf in the city. “I think it fits you just fine.”

“ _Varric._ ”

“Something wrong?”

Cassandra groans, pulling back and beginning to strip out of the threadbare sweater covering the white button up. She’s right about one thing, despite Varric’s opinion – it certainly doesn’t fit anymore, not appropriately. The buttons over her breasts are pulled tight, and she undoes them to relieve a bit of the tension before looking at him again. “You are staring.”

“ _Am I?_ ” he manages to say without choking on his own tongue. Cassandra sighs.

“Anyway.” She begins to undress, but Varric stops her. “You cannot be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.”

“There is nothing…remotely attractive about this. It is a stuffy uniform. It is nothing but a symbol.”

“Yeah, a symbol that does _nothing_ to cover your ass. C’mere.” He pulls her down and kisses her again. She makes that sweet noise, that little laugh that goes straight to the darker, lonelier little tunnels of his heart and reminds him that he has managed to find a connection with a woman who, ordinarily, would pretend he was a piece of gum on the sidewalk. Call it fate, call it divine intervention, doesn’t matter.

Said woman is wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him full and with fervor, and Varric is falling even more in love.

“Can I be frank with you, Seeker?”

“Yes.”

“I would really like to fuck you.”

She blinks. Breathes. “ _Oh._ ” As if she is pleasantly surprised. As if he were going to say he wanted to order in for the night. As if that hasn’t been the one thing on his mind for nearly a week – the way she melts under his hands and can turn him into a writhing, pathetic mess in her own right. Cassandra pulls back, fingers clumsily working the rest of the buttons on the top before trying to peel off the skirt. “Let me—“

“No, no. Keep the skirt on.”

She jerks her head up to look at him, and her gaze is sharp, edged, but not questioning. She’s heard him. Heard him loud and clear. Without another breath between them, she surges forward and kisses him again. Varric’s the one caught offguard now, moaning into her mouth as she slides her hands under his shirt, skimming over his sides before she grabs his ass and pulls him flush with her body.

“Now,” she manages. “I need you now.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Varric doesn’t bother dragging her to bed. He backs her up toward her sturdy little vanity and turns her around, right in front of the mirror. Cassandra groans and drops her head, panting into the wood and spreading her legs. Varric runs an appreciate hand over her thighs before he drags a stiff thumb over the crotch of her underwear.

“You’re just as turned on as I am, aren’t you?”

She groans again. “Maker, _yes_ , Varric, please. Don’t _tease._ ”

“Oh? And what if I had sent you a little message before I got here. On my way, Seeker.” He pushes his thumb against her clit, the fabric rubbing against her. She drops her head right onto the table with a quiet thud. “Don’t _tease._ ”

“I will—“

“You’re not really in much of a position to disagree with me,” he says. “But it is just like you to find a way, isn’t it?

“Insufferable,” she manages, panting louder and rolling into his touch. “Please,” she says again.

He’s so weak for her. So fucking weak for the way she begs him without relinquishing control. Because she has it. She always has it. Varric reaches up and grabs the hem of her underwear, yanking it down to her knees. He realizes then that he’s completely clothed, and his cock is pushing uncomfortably at his pants, like it _knows_ there’s an incredible woman he needs to pound the ever loving shit out of.

Lovingly, he would add. He’d like to pound her lovingly. Because he does. He loves this woman, he thinks, finally releasing his cock with quick twist of the buttons on his slacks. He brushes the tip against her entrance, listening for the hitch in her breath. His other hand bunches up the plaid fabric of the skirt and rests on her ass. He looks into the mirror and finds her looking right back at him, eyes unfocused and mouth parted.

It’s the most beautiful thing he’s seen since the last time he had her, and if he wasn’t so desperate for her, he’d pause and maybe write about this moment, the way her gaze feels on his, the heady scent of her filling the room, the dull shake of the apartment as the air conditioning kicks on behind them.

“ _Varric_ —“

“I’m here, Cassandra. I’m right here.”

She nods, and Varric doesn’t let another stray thought get between him. He lines himself up and slowly fucks into her.

The noise she makes startles a sound of his own, and Varric grips her skirt tighter for physical, maybe even emotional support. He knows the rhythm of their moments together. Slow and steady at first, adjust and stretch and _feel._ Appreciate, she says. Varric sighs, fucking appreciating the way his cock looks sliding in and out of her. He appreciates the sight of her breasts in the mirrior, swinging in time with his thrusts, still covered by some beautiful lacy thing she wears. For herself, she always says. Varric wouldn’t have believed six months ago that Cassandra Pentaghast bought lacey underthings to make herself feel pretty, but it makes perfect sense now.

He’ll get around to tearing it carefully off of her later. After this.

Right now, he’s picking up his pace, hips smacking against her ass. Varric grips one of her thighs, setting a slick, brutal pace. He fucks her, the vanity rattling under their shared movement, little bits and things toppling over. Cassandra grips the edge, white-knuckled and shaking with the effort as she moans, breaking only to shout his name, beg for more, throw her head back and make the most beautiful noises he’s ever heard.

At some point, the pace becomes off-kilter, and Varric knows he’s close.

“Can you come?” he asks her.

“ _Yes, yes, I—_ “

“That’s all I need. I need you to come, fuck you’re so beautiful when you do. You’re so fucking incredible.” He’ll tease her for wearing the uniform again later, but right now all he wants is for her to know that she is absolutely everything he wants right now, and that she is more than enough, better than anything he could deserve. “Come for us, Cassandra, come.”

She does. She comes, gripping the vanity with both hands and rolling forward, just as her muscles clench around him. He tumbles with her, leaning against her as she lets the table support them both.

“Right there, right _fucking_ there. It’s good, it’s perfect. You want it, don’t you?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Fuck, Cassandra—“ Varric plants his face gracelessly into the expanse of her back, smearing the shirt with sweat and spit as he shouts, coming so fucking hard he knows he’ll feel it for a couple of days. That little twitch of his cock every time he thinks about how good she could make it for him.

For a long moment, they lay like that, until Varric has the good sense not the crush her anymore and pulls back. His cock slides weakly from her, and he realizes the inside of her thighs are slick.

“Bed,” he says hoarsely, and tries to help her. They both noodle uselessly on the mattress while Varric kicks off his pants and crawls after her, shoving the skirt up again to drag his tongue over the wetness on her legs. Cassandra moans, back arching off the bed as Varric inches closer to her cunt again, finally pressing his tongue against her while two of his fingers slide home, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm as she works her way toward another. It’s almost too soon, he thinks, but she gives it to him.

Varric finally pulls back and rests his forehead on her bare stomach, pressing his lips to her sweat-slicked skin.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs.

Cassandra sighs. “I am not wearing this again.”

“That’s alright. I think once should do it.” Varric looks up at her. “For now.”

He’s so completely satisfied that he doesn’t mind the pillow he gets straight to the face, and pushes himself up to kiss her properly.

 


	8. Overheated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Formula One AU? Yes. Yes good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, one day I'll be able to write porn without two pages of exposition. One day.
> 
> \-- vehlr

The sun is warm on her skin as Cassandra walks up the driveway to Varric's house. She had been all but defiant when Leliana had announced the new head of the pit team, a cocksure dwarf with a bad habit of pissing her off. He had little respect for the star racer, and she had even less for him and his team. And yet from adversity the sweetest flower had bloomed, and here she was at his home, about to have dinner with the man.

Cassandra supposes stranger things have happened.

The garage door is open, the man himself whistling along to some soulful track on the radio as he tinkers with the engine.

“Am I early?”

Raising his head to meet her gaze, he smiles. “Right on time, hot shot.” He hauls himself out from under the hood, wiping his hands on a rag as she smiles, approaching him. He leans against the car, grinning. “You look… _wow_.”

She ducks her head slightly - after having only seen her in overalls and leathers, she supposes the skirt is quite the change of pace - paired with a simple vest top and a cardigan, it is comfortable yet flattering.

“Thank you.” She gestures to the car. “You have quite a car. I am... surprised, I suppose. I did not take you for a man who took his work home.”

“Eh, just a little project I've been working on.”

She runs a light finger along the machine, smiling slightly when her hand stops at his hip. “Does she have a name?”

“I call her Bianca.”

“Fast?”

“It's not always about speed, hot shot,” he points out, folding his arms. She plants her feet either side of him, eyebrows quirking up in question. “Sometimes you need more than power under the hood. Decent stabilisers and a solid engine, not one of those ridiculous carbon fibre contraptions. I'm not a boy racer, c'mon.”

“V8?”

“Naturally.”

“Modified distributor?” Her hands settle at his waist.

“Of course.”

“Lowered suspension by the looks of it.”

“I like the smoother look.”

“You _would_ ,” she deadpans, and he laughs, arms wrapping around her waist.

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“I used to work in the pits, you know,” she points out. “I _do_ know how the car actually works.”

His eyes light up. “You? A regular grease monkey?”

“A long time ago, yes.” She smiles at the memory of working alongside Galyan and the others. “Justinia was the one who suggested I might have the temperament for being in the driver's seat.”

“I can't imagine you working with a team,” he admits. “Not the way I do things, anyway.”

“It was a... unique arrangement,” she laughs, hands running through his hair.

“I'll bet.” He presses his lips to the small area of skin on show. “So what were you?”

“Front jack.”

“Risky.”

“Not with our team.”

“Oh, so it's just _you_ who's a menace to all pit crews,” he teases.

She chuckles. “I apologised!”

“Mm, yes you did.” He nips at her neck, her sharp intake of breath audible. “I could stand to hear it again, though. Amongst other things.”

“Varric -” His fingertips are light against her back, her skin pebbling at the touch.

“Still,” he says, pulling back, “if you really _do_ know what you’re doing, maybe you can help. There’s a rattling noise I can’t locate.”

“Oh, I see,” she teases, shrugging off the cardigan, “you invite me over for dinner but you really just wanted another set of eyes on your pet project.”

He squeezes her waist before sliding past her. “Full disclosure? I can’t cook. My plan was to ply you with a great takeout and then fuck you senseless, but the car threw a literal spanner in the works.”

She can feel her cheeks burning at the thought, and she ducks behind the hood of the car. “I see.”

She can hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s still on the cards, hot shot, don’t fret.”

“Little shit,” she mutters under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Turn the engine on,” she says, louder.

The engine revs into life, and she tilts her head slightly, trying to isolate the noise, before crouching to take a look under the car.

“See anything?” he calls from the seat.

“I… think so. Turn it off?”

The noise dies down, and the offending part stops vibrating. She straightens with a slight smile. “I have it. Your suspension is to blame.” She looks past the hood, but Varric is nowhere to be seen.

And then suddenly he is at her back, one hand on her waist, the other snaking down her front. “Keep talking, hot shot.”

She sighs, exasperated. “Varric, I am serious. Your suspension is forcing all the vibrations into the engine, your distributor is getting loosened and -” She stops, rolling her eyes. “And the zip is on the side, not at the front. _Idiot_.”

“Just getting my bearings!”

“Are you even listening to the actual words I am saying?”

“Oh, definitely not. But don't let _that_ discourage you.”

“Varric – _oh_ -” Her voice catches as his questing fingers find their goal, her grip on the car frame tightening. “Varric, the car -”

“She won't mind,” he teases, pressing against her.

“ _Ah_ – you are impossible!”

“Want me to stop?”

She rocks her hips against his movements. “You dare,” she breathes.

“So demanding,” he murmurs, curving his fingers around her and into her, eliciting a moan. “And here I thought you liked my clever hands.”

“Maker take you, Varric –“

“You might have to get used to not being in the driving seat with me,” he points out. “Let’s just hope you’re not a back-seat driver.”

She laughs, a throaty rich noise. “I hate to disappoint you already, but I am.”

“Of course you are,” he chuckles, pulling his fingers free before spinning her around and kissing her. She clings to him for a moment before pulling away, smile broad.

“Of course I am. But I _am_ right about the car.”

He considers her for a moment, before grinning. “Let's play a game, hot shot.” He slides the creeper out from under the car. “You fix the distributor, I'll admit you're a good mechanic.”

She eyes him warily. “There has to be a catch.”

He grins. “Of course. Get on.”

Her eyes narrow, before she lies on the creeper, hoisting herself under the car.

“Am I allowed tools?”

“I'm not barbaric.” He slides his toolbox to her.

“Then I do not see - _oh!_ ” She looks down, his dark round eyes looking up at her from between her legs as he pulls her skirt down and off, and a soft whimper escapes her throat. Fuck.

“Don’t want your nice skirt to get dirty. Now, get to it, hot shot,” he murmurs, smirking.

“Varric -”

His breath is hot on her thigh as he kisses the inside of her leg. “Yeah?”

She swallows hard. “Nothing. Just... be careful.”

As she picks up the wrench, his fingers trail up from her knee, brushing over her centre. Taking a deep breath, she unscrews the baseplate. Slender fingers make the job a quick one – or rather, they _should_. But he is good, teasing her with light touches that make her jump and throb. Her hands are trembling – just a little longer, she could do this, she could -

\- and then his tongue runs along the length of her lips, flicking over her clit, and she drops the tools, hands spread over the bottom of the car as she cries out.

“Varric, _please_ -”

If he hears, he does not reply, but his hands squeeze her legs as his mouth closes over her, tongue laving at her core. She grits her teeth, trying not to shout again as her hands fumble for the tools. She could do this, just a few more moments -

Varric _fucks_ her with his mouth, inelegant and messy and _hot_ , and it does not take long for her to cave. She reaches down to push him away, hoisting herself out from under the car. He sits back, grinning widely.

“Give up?”

She launches herself at him, mouth hot against his as her hips grind against his. “Fuck me,” she gasps, “fuck me _now_ , _please_ , I _need_ you -”

He bucks against her, hands closing around her arms as he flips her onto her back. “Yes, ma'am.”

Her fingers tug at his belt, quick to rid him of pants as her lips trail kisses down his throat. His hand grasps for hers, throwing it above her head as he lines himself up against her entrance. He slides into her with a long moan, head resting against hers.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Cassandra -”

She growls, hooking her leg under his and flipping him onto his back almost effortlessly. The motion forces him deeper, both letting out a soft groan as she rocks against him.

“Fuck me, grease monkey,” she commands, grinning down at him as she pulls her vest off.

He stares up at her in adoration for a long moment, before his hands run up her torso. “You're something else, hot shot.”

“So they tell me -” Her words stop, a sharp whimper as his thumbs flick over her nipples. “ _Varric_ -”

He rolls her over and onto her back again, one leg hoisted over his shoulder as he starts to thrust against her. “Told you,” he grunts, clamping an arm around her leg as his free hand holds her hip, “here, _I_ drive.”

She cries out with every hard thrust, the coil of heat in her belly tightening once more. “Yes - oh, _yes_ \- like that -”

“Backseat driver,” he growls, but picks up his pace, letting her legs wrap around his waist as he pulls her hips closer. Her hands tease and tug at her breasts, back arching to accommodate more of him as he pushes her closer and closer to bliss.

“Come on, hot shot. Come for me.”

And she does, screaming his name as she arcs off the garage floor, her body demanding his own release. He swears, fucking her hard as it erupts from him, once, twice, before he slumps over her, breathing heavily.

“Fuck, hot shot.”

She laughs, one hand light in his hair. “You’re pretty good. Next time, though… I’ll drive.”

He grins against her chest, tilting his head to look up at her. “We’ll see.” They disentangle themselves, and he steals a quick kiss before retrieving his trousers. “Besides,” he points out, “I won.”

She shimmies back into her skirt, smirking over her shoulder. “Who says you won?”

He laughs. “Come on, hot shot, there's no way you finished before you _finished_.”

“Start the engine.”

He rolls his eyes but opens the driver's door, sliding into the seat. “No way. Absolutely no possible way -”

The engine roars into life, the odd juddering noise from earlier completely absent. She leans against the frame of the car, looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“You were saying?”

He stares up at her for a long moment. “Well, fuck me.”

“We should order dinner first.” She leans in, teeth gently pulling at his earlobe. “I like Thai. They take longer to deliver…”

He all but scrambles from the car in his rush to find a phone.


	9. A Case For Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ‘Netflix and chill’ text from Cassandra probably _doesn’t_ mean Varric’s getting some tonight. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't believe that Cassandra rolls her eyes at inaccuracies in cop shows... then I suppose we disagree.
> 
> \--v.

Varric shifts uncomfortably as Cassandra leans against him. She had invited him over quite last minute, a text sent mid-afternoon - _would you like to come over to watch Netflix and chill tonight? -C._ It had been laughable for two reasons - one, that she still signed her texts, as if she did not trust his phone to identify her number correctly; and two, that she no doubt had no idea what the phrase ‘Netflix and chill’ had become synonymous with.

So he had said yes, because an evening of binge-watching terrible cop shows and listening to her running commentary on its inaccuracies was still a far better prospect than a dark evening alone hunched over his cock and watching porn on his laptop.

The only problem was that she was pressed against him, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to actually _relax_. He shifts again, and she moves with him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” she asks quietly.

“Mm. You?”

“You are quiet.”

“Well, we’re watching -”

“I suppose,” she says, and he feels her stiffen, pulling away slightly. “Would you like a drink or something?” “Naah, I’m good.” She rises, heading into the kitchen, and he risks a glance at her ass, letting out a sigh. He was in serious trouble, and he knew it. Despite a less-than-civil start to their friendship, recently things had been good. _Too_ good. Varric’s heart was warming considerably to the idea of her being more than a friend - a ridiculous thought, in truth, because she was not the kind of woman that would ever look twice at a guy like him. And still the thought lingered.

She shuffles back into the living area, putting her drink down on the coffee table. She hesitates for a moment, and he looks up at her, smiling in what he hoped was a normal manner.

“Varric, do you know what I meant when I texted you?” she says finally.

He bites back a laugh. “Uh, yeah. I’m not sure _you_ did.”

“I - what?”

“Netflix and chill is what the kids these days call a hookup.”

She blinks. “I know.”

He stares. “You _do?_ ”

“Of course.” She smiles slightly. “You assume I am so naive?”

“I just -”

She laughs, leaning over him and settling into his lap. “We have been dancing around this for too long, Varric. I got tired of waiting for you to make a move.”

His arms wrap around her back, and he shifts, letting her lie back against the couch as he presses against her. “Maybe I _liked_ watching shit cop shows with you,” he offers.

“ _Varric_.”

He grins, reaching up to stroke her cheek. “Well, I _do_. But lately I’ve... not been watching the screen so much.” He kisses her, one hand at her waist and the other cupping her face, tilting her back and letting her body arch into his. She makes a soft noise, hands coming up to tease at his hair, and he tunes out the television in favour of her soundtrack - the rustle of her legs moving against one another, the squeak of a couch spring beneath them, the all-enveloping sound of her throat trying to let out built-up desire… that one was his particular favourite, he decides quite quickly, and he runs a hand down her side to prolong the sound.

“Varric -”

"Easy, Seeker, easy.” He props himself up on his elbow, grinning as her hands tug at his belt. “You know, maybe we should stop. We shouldn’t rush into this, I don’t want you to regret anything.”

She huffs, throwing the belt across the room before yanking inelegantly at shirt buttons. “I have given it plenty of thought, I will not regret -”

“You’ve thought about it?” he asks, eyebrow raised, and she blushes. “You’ve thought about me fucking you?”

“I -”

“Did you touch yourself?” His voice is low and soft and full of want, his fingers slipping beneath her waistband. "Did you think about me and -"

"Yes," she whispers.

"Oh, _Cassandra_."

She moans, fingers tightening around his shirt. "Say it again. Please." She has never begged him for anything before, and it sends a surge of want through him, hips bucking slightly.

He leans down, lips by her ear, before his fingers trail along her heat, his arousal only stoked further by how wet she already was. “Cassandra,” he breathes, and she lets out another moan, grabbing his wrist.

“Please -”

“You’re so wet for me. Fuck, you really _have_ been thinking about this.” He kisses the curve of her neck, two fingers rolling gently over her clit. “Did you think of me on my knees, tongue between your legs?”

“Oh - _Varric_ -”

"I have. A lot. Thought about you on your hands and knees, about fucking you from behind on that huge bed of yours, about making you scream my name…” He nips at the soft skin, pressing a finger inside her. “Thought a _lot_ about that.”

“Please - please -”

“Tell me. Tell me how you thought about me.” He is pushing his luck, probably, but the idea that she had pined for him was intoxicating, his hips rutting against her thigh.

“I - I wanted your mouth on me,” she gasps, fingers tight around his wrist, urging his hand to move. “I wanted your - oh, Maker, _Varric_ -”

"Say it.”

"I wanted your cock inside me, I wanted you to take me - please, please, I _need_ to -”

He pushes another finger in, palm pressing against her clit as he fucks her with his hand. “You’re so fucking hot,” he groans, “it’s fucking _obscene_ how good you look like this.”

“Varric, please, _please_ \- I need -” She is sobbing, clawing at him as she writhes on the couch below him. He could definitely get used to this.

“You want to come?”

“Yes - yes, fuck, yes -” Swearing. Shit, that really was obscene. He was going to fucking come in his trousers like a teenager. He curls his fingers slightly, the heel of his hand rubbing against her, and she cries out.

“Fuck!”

"Come for me. Come for me, let me see you, _please_ , Cassandra -”

She comes, a barrage of screams and swearing and it is filthy and _divine_ and Varric watches in awe, before his own end sends his face burrowing into her shoulder. He comes with a grunt, almost painful in its intensity and positively silent compared to the goddess beneath him who still whimpered and panted as he pulls his hand free.

“Mm.”

She turns her head slightly, fingers uncurling from his shirt. “What?”

“You taste _fantastic_.”

“ _Ugh_.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to her neck before pulling himself up. “You won’t be saying that when I’m between your legs next time.”

She manages a smile at that, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Next time?”

“C’mon, this wasn’t _ever_ going to be a one-time thing. I mean, I don’t know whether you want something serious or whatever, but -”

She pulls him down into a warm kiss, soft and sweet, before letting him go. “I do not think I can do something casual, not with you.”

He smiles. “Me neither.”

She stretches, before flopping back against the couch. “Why on earth do they call it ‘chill’? I am _exhausted_.”

He laughs. “Clearly we’re too old for ‘Netflix and chill’. How about ‘Sexflix and a cup of tea’?”

“Oh, are you getting up? Yes please.” The tone in her voice is teasing, but he humours her anyway, making a quick stop in the bathroom to clean up before putting the kettle on and rummaging in the cupboard for some biscuits.

After all, he thinks with a smirk, she would need her energy for round two...


	10. Agenda: Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The continuing misadventures of Senator Varric Tethras and his campaign manager as they navigate election season, and some surprise feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as per usual, we start with wanton, filthy smut, and close out with some hard-core feels.

Standing in the doorway to his bedroom, Varric suddenly realizes that this is _not_ the reason he gave Cassandra a key to his apartment – but he sure is glad she’s putting it to good use. Sure, she’s his campaign manager, and his publicist. Sure she’s been working for him for three years, now – but he gave it to her like he gives a key anyone who controls a good fifty-percent of his life.

He’s never been happier about putting so much trust in one woman.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs. He isn’t quite sure she hears it, but she certainly sees him.

“You’re home,” she says, though how she manages it, Varric doesn’t know.

“Never happier to be here,” he finally says, and kicks off his shoes.

She is naked, which is only the start of it.

She is naked and on his bed, her legs spread and fingers dipping between her legs. Varric can _hear_ how wet she is from the door, and it only gets better the closer he gets. He manages to loosen his tie and crawl on his hands and knees onto the foot of the bed, mesmerized.

“I—” She gasps, just a little, just quiet enough for it to hardly be a noise at all – but he hears it. “I didn’t know how long you would be.”

“Have you come?” She shakes her head. “Maker’s balls, Cassandra.”

“D-do not blasph – _ah!_ ” She throws her head back as he leans forward and drags his teeth over one of her trembling thighs. “Varric—”

“How long have you been holding back for me?”

“Fif-fifteen minutes,” she says.

“That’s a long time,” he says, as if they might be discussing how long it would take to warm up dinner. “But you’re so patient. With me, with the election, with all the work we have to do.” He kisses the bend of her knee, feeling her shudder under his hands. “And you’re always so good to me, Cassandra. _So good._ I didn’t even ask you for this. We didn’t even discuss it, and here you are. Waiting for me. Why?”

Cassandra looks at him, her eyes unfocused for a moment before she shivers, swallows. “To show you.”

“Show me what?”

“Show you how much I want you.”

Varric smiles. “And what do you want, Cassandra? What do you want most right now?” He maneuvers between her legs, raising them up to rest on his shoulders. He’s being very well behaved, considering how close his mouth is to her cunt, and how badly he wants to pull her hand away and just _take._

“I—” She breathes, sits up a little straight. “I want to come. But—” And then she takes her other hand, and cups his cheek. “I want _you_ to do it.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” is all Varric can say before she shows herself to him. He grabs her thighs and hauls her closer, closing his mouth over her entrance. Cassandra cries out as he fucks her with his tongue, and she’s so wet that he can practically swallow. He can taste her, so clearly, better than he ever has before. And maybe that’s because this is what she _wants._ To have his mouth on her, consuming and owning. Varric can’t be sure.

Cassandra is, however a present and important part of his life she may be, sometimes a mystery.

But now right now. Not while his mouth is pulling the most beautiful aching noises from her mouth. She says his name over and over, blasphemes enough in her own right that he almost _laughs._ With a groan, Varric presses his tongue flat against her clit, reaching to press two fingers inside her and thrust.

“ _Varric!_ ”

He moves harder, takes his thumb and starts stroking the swollen knot of flesh until he can feel her trembling right into his bones, and she screams once – “ _Yes, yes!_ ” – and clenches around his fingers.

Varric pulls his head back, stroking inside her, still, massaging through the aftershocks. “That’s good,” he murmurs. “Such a good girl. You’re so good for me, you know that?” She whimpers, threading his hair through her fingers as she collapses onto the pillows, shivering. “You okay?”

“Are you stupid?” she deadpans, and Varric chuckles, finally pulling out his fingers. “That was…very good.”

“I’m glad it passes your rigorous standards.”

Cassandra sits up on her elbows, head tipped to the side, smiling at him. “It does.” She glances at his tented trousers. “Are you in need of assistance, Senator?”

He chuckles. “I could be. Do you have time in your busy schedule?”

Cassandra unwinds her legs from his shoulders and nods, reaching to pull his tie off completely, tossing it onto the floor.

“I always have time for you, sir.”

Varric swallows. “ _Shit._ ”

“Oh?” She pushes his jacket off his shoulders, tossing it away, too. “Does that do something for you?”

He clears his throat. “I mean—”

“It’s alright, Varric.” She leans forward, kissing his cheek and neck. “I came here because this week has been hard for you. The bill did not pass, and the debate was—”

“A mess, I know.”

“It was _hard_ ,” she said.

“It’s not the only thing.”

Cassandra swats his arm. “I am _trying_ to be…to be _supportive._ As your…publicist—” Her cheeks flush. It’s _adorable_. “I want to be sure that you are…happy.”

Varric smiles. “I don’t think that’s a publicist’s job.”

“I am also your campaign manager.”

“Not in that job description either.”

She huffs. “I am your _partner_ ,” she says. “Despite our disagreements in the past, we have come to a sort of…mutually beneficial truce.”

“You mean we agree to fuck each other’s brains out every so often while also making sure we both have jobs.”

“If you intend to be so crass, then yes.” She’s started unbuttoning his shirt, but she pauses, looking at him. “We have come a long way, Varric.”

“We have.”

“I would like to keep going.”

Varric swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

“Perhaps it is uncouth, or ill-advised. But I have…feelings for you.” Cassandra looks at him. “I want to be whatever we can be.”

He groans, tackling her to the bed and kissing her, full on the mouth. “You make me crazy.”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

She laughs. “You do not know how crazy I could make you.”

“You think?”

Cassandra cups his face in her hands. “I _know._ ” She urges him up again. “Get undressed,” she says. “And I will show you.”

Varric nods, scrambling to take off the rest of his clothes while she waits patiently. Her expression is calm, and relaxed. Varric feels at ease just watching her watch _him_ , and when he comes back to her, she pulls him into her embrace. “I would settle for this,” he says. “If you’re not up to making me crazy.”

“Admit it,” she says quietly. “I make you crazy outside of the bedroom as well.”

“Your idea of a _relaxed schedule_ is completely – _mmph!_ ” Cassandra cuts him off with a kiss.

“Let me help you relax tonight, then. Let me please you.”

“You always do, Cassandra. Never think I don’t appreciate that.”

“I know, Varric. Now.” She rolls onto her back, and Varric practically flows with her, settling between her legs again. “ _Sir._ ” Varric’s cock twitches. “What can I do for you this evening?”

Varric feels winded, but Cassandra is only watching, only waiting to be told what to do. He swallows, leaning down and taking her ear gently between his teeth. “On your hands and knees,” he murmurs. “And let me fuck you.” She nods, and does as he asks. Varric thinks about taking his time, for a moment, but there will be plenty of chances for that later, he knows. Instead, he strokes his cock, lines up against her entrance, and slides in.

“Oh, _Varric_ —”

“Fuck, you sound so good when you say that.”

“Varric, _yes_ —”

“You feel good, you feel so fucking good. How can you always feel so good for me?” He moves harder, and Cassandra scrambles at the sheet, her head snapping back as she screams his name. “You do so much for me. Why do you do so much for me?”

“I—”

“I can’t do the same for you, I can’t be as _good_ as you.” Varric groans, fucking her faster, now, hands gripping her hips tight. “I’m not good enough for you, you deserve better.”

“ _Shut up, shut up – ah!_ ” Cassandra sobs, her head dropping now and she reaches between her legs to touch herself. “You are good. You are a good man, now stop _talking_ and fuck me—” She gasps as Varric pulls out, rolling her onto her back and grabbing her legs, hauling them over his shoulders again. He fucks into her, a ruthless, angry pace that makes her breasts jolt with every thrust.

“See? You always make me so fucking _crazy_ , I don’t know what to do with you—”

“Make me _come._ ” She looks right at him, and Varric realizes that the control either may have had was always an illusion. They are both at each other’s mercy, and Varric is lost.

Cassandra’s cheeks are wet with tears.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Don’t _stop_. You are not hurting me, you—” She gasps as he slows his thrusts, but he knows she feels it more, now. “You could never hurt me.”

Varric moans.

Oh he could. How he _could._

“You don’t _know_ that—”

“I know you,” she says, and surges up to kiss him. And she is seated in his lap, now, as he clings to her. “And I know what I feel for you. So come, Varric. Be free, just for tonight.”

“But it never ends—”

“You chose this life,” she gasps. “But you chose me as well.”

“ _Cassandra._ ” He feels her clench around him, and come without warning as she digs her fingers into the swollen flesh between her legs. Varric cries out and _comes_ , spilling into her and forcing them both back. He rolls his hips until he can hardly stand it, and pulls out.

Cassandra’s voice breaks as he does.

“ _Varric._ ”

He turns, and she is watching him.

It is so different from all their other moments like this. The times she would come over after a day in the office with him and let him go down on her on the couch, or fuck him in the kitchen. She’d never been in his bed before, and he’s glad to have her in it now.

“Shit,” he mutters, and she laughs.

“Yes. That was…revealing.”

Varric winces. “Sorry—”

“No. I am sorry that you feel that way. None of it is true.”

“Seems to be, sometimes.”

“You are a man who can have no secrets. It must be very hard.”

He sighs. “I have you,” he says. “Makes it easier.” A pause. “And also hard.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” she says, and whacks him in the face with a pillow.


	11. The Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Viscount Tethras left strict instructions not to be disturbed, but business never waited for anyone's pleasure._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, we all know they totally bang on the desk all the time, right? But how about... not? 
> 
> -v.

_ Knock-knock. _

“Nobody home!” calls Varric.

He looks quite annoyed when Bran opens the door.

“Bran, I _did_ say nobody was to disturb me for the rest of the day, didn’t I? I wasn’t unclear on that?”

“Yes, I know, but -”

“And which part of that did _you_ misunderstand?” He glares, and Bran frowns.

“You have guests that will not go away,” he says bluntly. “Important, must-not-be-slighted guests.”

Varric inwardly kicks himself. “Guild?” At Bran’s nod, he swears under his breath.

“You were going to meet the Lady Cassandra for lunch, weren’t you?” Bran says suddenly. “You were going to escape out the window and not come back for the rest of the day! _Again!_ ”

Varric laughs. “Actually, no. For once, I just wanted to get my damned work done in peace.” He hesitates, before continuing, “... so that I could avoid coming in at all tomorrow.”

“ _Varric!_ ”

“What? At least I’m honest!”

Bran narrows his eyes. “... are you alright?”

“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Other than the constant distractions -”

“You look a little… I don’t know, you don’t look terribly well.”

“I’m fine. I feel fine. Annoyed, but fine.” He straightens in his seat. “Send them in. Sooner this is done, the better.”

Bran nods, and closes the door as he leaves.

Cassandra’s head pops out from underneath the desk.

“Why is there so much room under here?”

“Short legs,” he laughs. “Come on, you need to get out of here. Bran’ll _kill_ me -”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“The window.”

“I was almost caught getting _in_ -”

“Shit, they’re coming -”

“You owe me,” she hisses, tucking under the desk again as the door opens.

Varric puts on a smile as three of the Guild’s top members shuffle in - they were all of an age that indicated they would be asking for him to look backwards instead of forwards, and inwardly he curses.

“Gentlemen. Always a pleasure.”

Underneath the desk, Cassandra squeezes his knee gently, and he takes comfort in it.

They take their seats, murmured greetings before they cut to the chase.

“We have concerns about your deal with the elves.”

Varric frowns, doing a few mental calculations. “Why? Their business doesn’t have any crossover with our interests.”

“For now,” says the alderman in a thin voice. “But times are changing, and we need to protect our own.”

“You’re suggesting -” Varric stops, hand closing into a fist. Slim fingers tug at his trouser laces, and he swallows before continuing. “You want to go back to a segregation system. You want me to start treating anyone who doesn’t represent our interests as a second-class citizen.”

“That is not -”

“That’s what you want. I know that’s what you want. I’m not deaf to the - to the gossip.” He catches himself as a warm hand strokes at his cock, but pushes on. “But I am telling you, right here and right now, that everyone in this city deserves a chance to prove themselves on the same footing as everyone else.”

“Viscount, are you alright? You’re rather flushed.”

“I’m fine,” he insists. “Now, if you want to talk about a real problem, I will always listen, but -”

“Actually,” pipes up the treasurer, “we did want to ask about the funding for the new hall in Lowtown. Our contractors say they need a signature, but last time we spoke you assured us -”

"Of course. I sent them the contracts this morni- _ah_ -" he cuts off, clamping his mouth shut for a moment as Cassandra's mouth closed around his length. _Fuck, Seeker._

"Are you alright?"

"Uh. Just a little light headed for a moment there." He forces a genial smile. "What was I saying?"

“The contracts?”

“Yes. Sent this morning, and they should be breaking ground tomorro- _oh_.” He closes his eyes for a moment. Thankfully, nobody seems to notice the slip, the three murmuring approval.

He swallows, risking a look down -

Her eyes sparkle, meeting his gaze with a mischievous wink, and the sight of her lips so perfectly around him is almost too much. He bites back a moan, hands gripping the desk.

“Are you alright, Viscount?”

“Ha - I’m f-fine,” he says, closing his eyes. _Fuck_. She was good - her mouth was eager, and her hand was firm. If he was not careful, he was going to lose it.

Bran stands up suddenly. “I think we should adjourn this meeting!” he says in a slightly desperate voice. “The Viscount is clearly unwell!”

There are murmurs of agreement, and Varric manages a weak wave as they file out. Bran pulls the doors closed behind them, glaring daggers at the man, and finally, finally, Varric can let out a moan, one hand reaching down to sink into the Seeker’s hair.

“Oh, fuck, Cassandra, _please_ -”

His hips rock against her ministrations, and her efforts redouble, free hand snaking down her front as she fucks herself with her fingers and the familiar scent of her heat hits his nose.

“Please - fuck, _please_ , I need you - ah, _fuck_ -”

Head falling back, his fingers tighten in her hair, a hiss escaping him as his release rips from him, emptying into her mouth. She drags the flat of her tongue along his length before letting go, swallowing. She smiles up at him, and he chuckles weakly.

“Minx,” he growls, and she blushes, pressing a kiss to him before tucking him back into his trousers.

“Is that a complaint?” she murmurs, and he realises from the tightness in her voice that she had not come, that her hand was still moving. He hauls her up into his lap, pulling her hand away and replacing it with his own as she straddles him.

“Never. You know me, I don’t look a gifted Seeker in the mouth.” She laughs, though it is laboured and desperate as her hands cup his face, forehead against his.

_ “Please -” _

“Come for me,” he whispers, fingers pumping in and out of her, slick and fast. And she does, shuddering in his grip as she lets slip a strangled noise, eyes closing. He moves with her hips, not slowing his pace until she was whimpering. Smiling, he reaches up with his free hand to cup her cheek, her own smile sending a warmth through him.

“So much for lunch,” he laughs, leaning up to kiss her gently. She smiles against his lips.

“Oh, I ate rather well,” she quips, and he laughs again.

"Maker, Seeker. You are..."

She smiles impishly. "Yes?"

"Perfect," he decides finally, "but next time I'm just going to fuck you over the desk, visitors be damned.” She laughs, pulling him into a deep kiss.


	12. Insert Disk Into Drive A:

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoops. I regret nothing. --v.

Varric had to admit, he had never been more nervous about a tech consultant.

Adjusting his collar for the seventh time in as many minutes, he stares at his reflection. He was not bad looking - a rough start, but a pampered life as soon as his first book had hit the shelves. He had done well for himself, right up until typewriters had gone out of fashion, even in an ironic way. Now he was in the digital age - and he was _still_ struggling with e-mail.

And, of course, there was the most recent issue. The missing document. The missing document that, if he could not get it back, his editor was going to hang him for losing. The next great epic from Thedas World Publishing.

And so he had ended up in the local dive bar, drowning his sorrows and loudly complaining until a gorgeous, _gorgeous_ tall statue of a woman sauntered over and offered her services. _Geek Squad_ , she had said. _Call me_ , he had heard.

So he called her.

The doorbell rings - right on time. One last tug at his collar and he pulls open the front door.

“Hey, I thought you'd gotten... lost...” His eyes drink in the sight of her long legs vanishing under a short pleated skirt, her well-fitted blouse, the glasses that surely had to be worn when her contacts were still on back-order. “Wow,” he whispers.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.” He smiles up at her for a long moment, completely forgetting why she was here – only glad that she was.

Cassandra, thankfully, knows exactly why she is here. “So where is the patient?”

“The - oh! Right, right. Come in.” He leads her through to his study, the beat-up old desktop sat silent.

“Tell me what happened?”

“I was working on something, and the whole thing just… poof. Dead. And when I booted it up again, I couldn’t find any of my work. It’s like the hard drive was wiped.”

She leans against the back of the chair for a moment, and he takes the chance to admire her form, slightly bent at the waist and _damn_ , that ass -

“And nothing else changed? No magnets, no spilled drinks?”

“I, ah, I don’t drink around the computer. Call it paranoia.” He smiles somewhat sheepishly as she turns her head to look at him.

“Sensible policy,” she points out, before settling into the chair. “I will need to run a quick scan, and then if nothing pops I will take out the hard drive and see what I can see.”

“Sure. You want anything? A drink?”

“No, thank you. I might be some time, do not feel as if you need to entertain me.”

He smiles. “Kind of my thing.”

She frowns for a moment, and he swallows, something about her concentration stirring terrible things in him.

“You have a Wall account,” she says finally.

“Huh?”

“You have a Wall account. Access to the Wall.”

“Oh. Yeah, kinda had to. Everyone’s on there now.”

She laughs then, a soft musical noise that makes his heart tighten. “Oh, I am sorry. I should not - it just means that your work is safe.” She straightens, rolling her shoulders. “Everyone has a ‘brick’ in the Wall - storage space on a cloud server. Your account is automatically set up so that your work is saved to the Wall and not your computer.”

“You’re _kidding_.”

She taps the keyboard, fingers flying over the keys as she brings up the login page and offers it to him. “It should be on the main page, next to the notifications.”

He types in his password, and the main page boots up. His eyes widen as, true to her word, the document titles sat proudly next to his endless list of notifications.

“ _Shit_ , Cassandra, I could _kiss_ you.” She blushes, and he backtracks, pulling away. “I mean - you know, if it weren’t massively inappropriate and everything.”

“You… could,” she says quietly.

He blinks. “Really?”

“I mean, hypothetically,” she adds in a rush. “If it were not highly unprofessional.”

“Oh, of course.”

She reaches for her phone. “I should -”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead.”

Punching in numbers, she steps out to update her team. Varric lets out a sigh, shaking his head slightly. _Idiot_. He was an idiot. Not only technologically inept, but romantically awkward too. Great.

“- and if you get a call before I’m due back, let me know. I’ll go straight there. Right. Thanks.”

He looks up as she hangs up, not so subtly admiring the sway of her hips as she walks back in.

He wonders what she tastes like.

She blushes brightly, eyes widening. “I - ah -”

Shit, did he say that out loud?

“You did,” she says, smiling slightly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “I am so sorry -”

“You… you could find out.”

“... uh?”

She gently pulls the glasses off her face, putting them away in a case as she continues, not quite meeting his eyes. “I, ah… I mean, I am technically finished here, and I am on break for the next hour…”

“You’re serious?” He stands, grabbing her wrist. “Wait, wait. Are you - are you _serious?_ Why?”

She smiles wryly. “Have you… looked in a mirror recently?”

“Every morning, to check for grey hairs,” he says automatically, and she laughs.

“You are ridiculous.”

“So they tell me,” he grins, pulling her closer. “But my rugged good looks don’t normally get me the attention of smart women like you.”

“And my intelligence rarely gets me the attention of attractive men like you. Perhaps -”

He yanks her down into a kiss, swallowing the rest of her sentence as it devolves into a moan. Her hands hover over his shoulders for a moment before she wraps her arms around him, pressing her body up against his. And oh, what a body, he realises deliriously - toned and tight and tempting as his hands travel down her torso.

“You’re hot,” he says, breathless. “Like, _really_ hot.”

“Thank you.”

“Get on the desk.”

“Your keyboard is -”

“If you don’t get up on the desk, I’m going to push the whole damn computer off.”

She laughs. “Varric.”

“Don’t test me.”

“You are running a machine that is older than my qualifications.”

“So?”

“ _So_ ,” she says, smiling slightly, “push the whole damn computer off. I can build you a better one.”

He stares at her for a long moment, and she raises her eyebrows as if to challenge him. And then he reaches past her, and shoves the entire desktop to the ground with a loud bang.

“Get on the desk,” he growls, and she moves without hesitation, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him in close. “Good girl.”

“I can be _very_ good, if you like.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can. So,” he says with a smirk, hands sliding up her thighs, “what _do_ you taste like?”

She blushes, but her legs part for him. “Find out,” she murmurs, voice husky with desire.

His thumb presses against her underwear, and she shivers.

“Lace.”

“I like -” Her sentence hangs unfinished as he pulls back the fabric and kisses the softness beneath.

“I like lace too. I like you more.” He presses two fingers into her, and she lets out a high whine. “Did I mention you’re hot?”

“You might have mentioned it - _ah!_ ” Her head falls back against the wall, one hand raking through his hair. He pulls back slightly, yanking the lace down and off her legs before settling in once more, tongue and fingers eager to get to work.

She tastes fantastic, he soon discovers, and she sounds just as good, a litany of gasps and moans and begging - shit, he was a sucker for hot women begging for his touch. Pushing aside the minor inferiority complex, he is more than happy to abide by her wishes, building up the pleasure within her.

“Oh - oh, please - _please_ , yes yes _yes_ -” Her grip tightens around the edge of the desk, thighs clamping around his ears, and for a glorious moment the pressure threatens to make his ears pop as the blood rushes to his head. But he keeps up his assault as she shakes around him, only letting her go when her knees fall limp over his shoulders, her panting ragged and long. He grins up at her.

“Damn, you really -”

She grabs the front of his shirt, pulling him roughly up her body to meet her mouth in a desperate kiss before she pushes him back and takes a deep breath.

“Fuck me.”

Her lips parted and puffy, her eyes glittering with need, her lips glistening with her own wetness, her legs around his waist… His throat catches, a strangled noise escaping him.

“ _Varric_ -”

He pulls her off the desk, fingers tight on her hips. “You are a dream,” he laughs. “I’m gonna bend you over this desk now.”

She kisses him, and he cannot get rid of his belt fast enough. Shucking his jeans down to his knees, he rolls her over, letting her find her footing as he presses her against the desk.

“Okay?”

“Yes, _yes_ , just -”

He does.

“Oh. Oh.” She sucks in a breath. “Oh, _fuck_.”

He swallows, her heat around him and his hands tight around her hips. “I plan to,” he manages, and she snickers and twitches and it feels amazing.

“Get on with it, then,” she says.

He pulls out slowly, before slamming back into her, starting up a rhythm that leaves her breathless as her hands reach out to clutch at the edges of the desk. Her body throbs around him, and he marvels at how good this is, how wonderful she feels. And she is so _loud_ , moaning and rocking against him as he fucks her, and he has missed how much _fun_ this could be -

_“Varric!”_

And he has _really_ missed hearing his name said like that. His hand snakes over her hip, reaching down between her legs.

“Come on,” he grunts, “you can do better than that, can't you?”

“Oh - _oh_ , oh Varric - _Varric_ -” Her hands grasp at the desk, clawing against the surface.

“That’s it, that’s good, you’re so _good_ -”

The desk groans beneath them, smacking against the wall with every thrust, and as she cries out his name in broken notes, he chases her over the edge, his own moan dragging up from the pit of his stomach as he pushes into her hard and release washes over him.

He rests against her, still inside her as she twitches around him, catching their breath. He presses a kiss to the back of her neck as he pulls away.

“That was -”

And then the desk falls out from underneath them, a horrible lurch as he falls forward, and he throws out a hand to brace himself against the wall.

Beneath him, Cassandra groans.

“Shit. You okay?”

“Yes. I think.”

He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her up as he brings them to their feet. “Easy, now.”

She laughs. “My hero.”

“Yeah, well, it's bad form to fuck someone into the ground and just leave them there,” he quips, letting her go reluctantly. “Anything broken?”

“Apart from the desk? No - oh,” she corrects, wobbling as she pulls her shoe off. “One heel.”

“Sorry.”

She laughs again. “Truly?”

“Well, yeah. Not for the parts _before_ the desk breaking, obviously, but -” She kisses him, silencing his argument sweetly.

“I am not sorry,” she murmurs.

“Oh, good. Me neither.” He smiles up at her. “So I need a new desk. And a new computer.”

“Yes, you do.”

“And I _definitely_ need to see you again.”

“I agree.”

“Tomorrow? You talk tech at me and I make you dinner?”

“Dinner sounds lovely. Should I wear more practical shoes or have we concluded the breaking-furniture part of our relationship?”

“Oh,” he growls, pulling her into another kiss, “I certainly hope _not_ …”


	13. Sweet Is The Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was so long ago, when she first kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm experimenting with a spy au, or something. idk. for ruffles and orillia. <3

Varric’s heart is beating out of his chest as they finally make it behind the hotel room door. Cassandra bolts it shut behind them, her breathing heavy.

“Did we lose them?” Varric mouths. She shakes her head, digging into her clutch and handing him a piece of paper.

_Room is bugged. Trust no one._

Of course Varric shouldn’t _trust_ anyone. He’s an Inquisition spy. He hardly trusts Cassandra, and he’s known her for seven years. With a sigh his shrugs off his coat and gives a great yawn. “What a night.”

“Indeed.” Cassandra pulls off her heels and smiles. “It’s been too long since we danced like that.”

“Oh?” He wonders how much of the smile is genuine, and how much she remembers of the last time they danced.

_Five years ago. The Empress’s ball._

“You never fail to surprise me. I thought you had forgotten.”

“I’m as bad a dancer as you are beautiful.”

Cassandra clucks her tongue. “Do not disparage us _both_ , husband. Help me with this, the zipper is too long.” She turns, giving him her back as Varric reaches up with hot, clumsy fingers to unzip her. He swallows. She stills under his touch. “My love,” she says. “You could stare when I am out of it.”

“I always stare,” he admits. It isn’t an act. Cassandra turns, holding her dress up with her arm over her chest. “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. You bought the thing, did you not?”

“Only because I know how beautiful you look in red.”

She smiles. “A shower then, I think. For us both.”

They continue the act in the bathroom, as they have since they arrived at the hotel three days before. A couple, married for more than ten years, traveling to Tevinter as they have would look suspicious if the two of them did things the way they have since Halamshiral – Cassandra doesn’t speak to him, and Varric pretends it doesn’t bother him. It works just fine. Most of the time. Finding information on the Venatori and Corypheus is far more important than their seemingly neverending feud.

They shower separately, and quickly, before changing for bed. It’s after midnight. For a few hours, at least, they’ll be free from the charade. In sleep, Varric thinks, she’ll be grateful to be rid of him. In a few days more, they can finally return to Skyhold. Already, the information they have goes beyond what anyone imagined they’d acquire. Cassandra hopes to leave early, to be done with this and their lie. But they make a good team, as they always have. She sits up in bed, watching him dress.

“Do you remember our first dance?”

“I do.”

“You were handsome, that night. In a different way. You seemed so…lost.” Varric pauses, looking up at her. “I admired your laugh.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Seven years, husband. Seven years, and we are still discovering one another.”

Varric chuckles. “Did you know what I noticed about you first, that night?”

“What?”

“Your eyes. They were _desperate_ for something.”

“Probably an escape from another of my brother’s tedious friends. They were so dull, his college chums. I always wonder how he acquired them.”

Varric swallows. So much of this isn’t _scripted._ So much of this is _real._ They met on a mission, thrown together by surprise. He’d been captivated by her gaze, the way she seemed to seek and _seek._ He supposed that’s how she acquired her nickname. And Varric had certainly felt out of place. He had left behind a delicate network in Kirkwall at the insistence of Cullen Rutherford, and run right in this _woman._ This beautiful, infuriating, maddening woman who could not speak a word without Varric hanging onto every syllable. He was in love with her then, even when he _hated_ her.

And he suspects, still, he is in love with her now. Even when the feeling is reciprocated, but could never be mutual.

“My love?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you come to bed? It is cold, without you.”

Varric breathes. “Let me warm you up, then.”

 

* * *

 

It was so long ago, when she first kissed him. She was angry, so _angry_ – and Varric couldn’t find it in himself to push her away. He’d wanted her for so long, and it hadn’t mattered how much she made his blood boil, or how she crawled under his skin. He’d wanted her. She had kissed him. It was only natural, only good and _right_ that they fall into bed together.

It had happened only once. She’d dressed in the morning, silently as Varric watched. She stood at the door to his hotel room and closed her eyes.

“Do not speak to me of this.”

“Why would I?”

“You know—” She breathed. Pressed her lips together. “It was a mistake.”

“Naturally.”

“Don’t use it as an excuse to extract _pity._ You don’t care for me anymore than I do you.”

“We’re a team, Seeker.”

“It was a _mistake_ ,” she said again, and left him there.

Varric hadn’t flinched, when the door shut.

He does now, though, when she reaches out to cup his cheek. “My love,” she says, but the words are hollow. Varric swallows.

He is so in love with her. He has been since the moment he laid eyes on her seven years before.

“The dancing excites you.”

“I…miss it.” He is growing uncomfortably hard. Cassandra has noticed.

“Kiss me,” she says, her voice hardly above a whisper. “Kiss me, and remind me of how excited I may become.”

“Does kissing excite you, wife?”

“When it is you, yes.”

Varric nods.

He kisses her.

It is _painful._ She wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, sealing the space between them. The room is hot, and Varric’s hands push under her nightdress, squeezing her hips and drawing her forward. Her hips roll against his, and Varric groans. This isn’t how he wants to do this. He isn’t even sure he wants to do this with her again _ever_ – the ache is real, and it is growing in his throat, threatening to spill out in a sob of need and _pity_. But she deepens her kiss, threads her fingers through his hair and reaches down with one hand to stroke at his cock.

“This isn’t—” he tries to say, but she kisses him, and she says, “This is perfect. This is what I want.”

Varric isn’t sure what to make of that. But she takes his hand, and she slides her underwear off her hips and lets him touch her. “I want you,” she says. “This is what you do to me. The dancing.” Varric strokes her clit and she moans. “Oh, _my love._ The dancing, the _suit._ Your hands on my waist. I wanted you to take me, right there.”

“How improper,” he murmurs.

They are no longer acting, that much is clear. Cassandra smiles and arches her back as he slides a finger inside her and strokes. The noise she makes sounds almost like _laughter,_ like _relief._ Varric does it again, pushes another finger inside her. She looks right at him, mouth hanging open in surprise, her body clenching. “ _Please_ ,” she whispers. Varric nods, rising up to draw his cock from his pants, stroking over her entrance.

“Like this.”

“ _Yes._ Exactly like that.”

He nods, and then he is inside of her.

It is…like he remembers, and also not at all. Five years have dulled the memory of what her body felt like under and around his own. She cries out, and Varric thrusts in, hard. She drags her nails down his shoulders, and Varric groans. “ _Shit. Shit._ ”

“More, _harder—_ ”

“You feel so good, you feel perfect.”

Cassandra nods, cupping his face in her hands as he fucks her – she kisses him, his lip caught between her teeth as she draws back.

“I love you,” she says. Varric thrusts harder. “I love you, I do.”

He wants to _scream._ He wants to pull back. Her touch is hot, his skin _burns_ and his heart _aches._

She doesn’t mean it, he thinks. She doesn’t, it isn’t the truth, it can’t be – but the words don’t stop falling from her lips, and he hears it over and over again.

_It was a mistake._

“I _love_ you.”

He comes. Without warning or preamble, and perhaps too soon, he comes. She gasps as he stills inside of her, her eyes fluttering closed as Varric watches.

 _I have always loved you_ , he wants to say.

“I love you, too” he says instead.

She laughs, high and panicked, and he presses his fingers against her clit as he draws out, waiting for her to come, listening for it, kissing her when she does.

The world slows down. Varric feels his blood settle. His forehead rests against hers.

“We…we should dance more often,” she says, sliding right back into her role. “I would be a luckier woman for it.”

“And I a tired husband.” He dares to kiss her once more before he rolls to his back. “We’ll sleep well.”

“Don’t we always.” She turns away from him, and Varric closes his eyes.

“Like the dead,” he says.

She flinches beside him.


	14. These Delights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it was hard, to be in love with the Divine. But the Left Hand would not be anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a serious need for Varric as the Left Hand to Divine Cassandra. THE HIJINKS. 
> 
> -v.

Varric rises as the Divine enters the room, the group of advisors joining him. She looked radiant and annoyed, and he makes a mental note to collar one of the servants to prepare her preferred tea in her chambers. She would no doubt glare at him for the presumption, but what good was a Left Hand who did nothing for his Divine?

“Most Holy,” they greet her, as one. She waves them into their seats, brow furrowed beneath the headdress of her office.

“What news from Ferelden?” she asks, turning to the Inquisition’s diplomat. Varric watches as Josephine blinks at the lack of pleasantries, but offers her short report - the Inquisitor had left Skyhold, and pilgrims journeyed to the Keep on an ever-more regular basis. The Divine nods, though her attention is waning. Varric wonders what aggravation the Empress had caused her prior to her meeting here.

“My Right Hand travels to Nevarra, to broker peace between the warring factions. As it stands, their conflict threatens the region, and the neighboring Free Marches.” She leans back. “They have suffered too much as of late.”

He inclines his head as she motions for him to talk. “Much of my news is to be discussed at length later,” he admits, referring to the more private matters she had sent him to deal with in Kirkwall, “but the newly appointed Viscount offered prayer and blessing for your continuing health. He is a good man, and the region will prosper, Your Perfection.”

Something in her gaze shifts, and Varric suddenly feels the weight of her eyes on him. She considers him for a long moment.

“Your other news. Pressing?”

“No more so than usual, Your Perfection.”

Her eyes flare again, and she straightens.

“Leave us.”

Varric keeps his face neutral as the other advisors leave, but he wonders at what had caused her abrupt change. The meeting had been due to run for another hour before a break, and Cassandra - he could not call her Victoria in his mind, not after everything - rarely deviated from her schedule. The doors close with a heavy thud, and finally he turns to face her, one eyebrow crooked.

“So what was that about, See-”

She cuts him off, grabbing his collar and yanking him across the table as their mouths clash messily. He recovers quickly, one arm around her waist as he hoists her up and sits her on the edge of the table.

“What was it?” he asks, fingers light as he pulls her wimple off her head. “The way the light hit me? My description of the Marchers’ shift in politics?”

She laughs, tugging at his belt. “I would rather not say. You might use it against me.”

“Oh, definitely,” he drawls. “But you’ll enjoy it when I do.”

“It was - _oh_.” She stills as his lips drag along the exposed skin of her neck. “ _Varric_.”

“What do you need, Your Perfection?”

Her grip on his shirt tightens, and he grins against her skin. That was it.

“Varric -”

“It’s strange,” he offers, “that you insist I never call you Victoria or Divine when it’s just us. And yet this…”

Her hand reaches up to tangle in his hair, pulling his head back as she kisses him, bruising. “I know, I could not bear it all the time. But… just this one time -”

He smiles, reaching up to stroke her cheek, a tender action amidst the hurried passion. “I gotcha, Seeker.” At her old nickname, her face softens, the worries of the Divine slipping away for a few moments. “Every once in a while is fine by me.”

She smiles, leaning into his touch. “You are so good to me.”

“Only because you deserve it, sweetheart.” He tilts her head back, smile broad. “Now, Your Perfection, how might I serve you?”

He can see the look in her eyes turn from affection to something much hotter. 

“Exalt me.”

He brings her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “As you say, Most Holy.” Pushing her legs apart, he crouches in front of her, smiling slightly at the realisation that she still did not wear undergarments.

She understands his amusement, smiling wryly. “It is a habit I have not grown into,” she laughs.

“And rightly so,” he murmurs, fingers trailing up her thigh lightly, “as if there were a fabric pure enough to cover such wonders.”

“Flatterer.”

He inclines his head. “Only the truth, Most Holy. You are the reflection of the Maker and His Bride on this earth, a perfect vessel for His love.” She is already wet, the pad of his finger trailing along her slick entrance. “May I venerate you, Your Perfection?”

She swallows, nodding.

“The honour is mine,” he smiles, pressing into her with a single digit, and she lets out a soft gasp. His tongue is quick to follow, tracing circles around her clit as she sighs, legs curling around his shoulders. She is sweet, and he has missed the taste of her, his absence dragging longer than planned. But right now she needs more. She needs his words.

Crooking his fingers just so, he pulls back, leaning up to meet her heated gaze.

“I supplicate to you, Most Holy. I marvel at your strength.”

“Varric -”

“The Empress is a fool to dismiss you,” he whispers. “She presumes to understand you, but she is blinded by the Game, using faith as a weapon against her people.”

She gasps, fingers clutching tightly in his hair. “How do you - _oh_ , there, just _there_ -”

“Do I please you, Your Perfection?”

“Yes - yes, my love, _always_ -”

His thumb rubs over her clit, and she cries out, legs taut as she is overcome. He guides her back down to earth, fingers gentle as he eases slowly out of her, careful not to soil her robes. As she falls back in his grasp, he steals a soft kiss.

“Don’t let the Empress get to you. And, if needs be, I can take her down a few pegs and remind her that the faith of her people is not to be toyed with.”

“You always know what bothers me. How do you always know?” she asks wondrously.

“I would be a poor Left Hand if I didn’t,” he points out, “and an even worse lover.”

She hums, pleased at his choice of words, and she hoists him closer with her legs, one hand tight around his shirt.

“Fuck me,” she breathes.

He grins. “I am your humble servant, Your Holiness.”

Her hand finishes its eager work, freeing his length from his trousers. “Then fill me with your gratitude.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now? I thought it was the Rod of the Divine -”

She laughs, sweet and clear. “ _Varric!_ ”

Grabbing her hips, he tugs her closer, claiming her mouth with his own. “I love when you laugh. I love hearing your joy.”

“You bring me so much of it, my love.”

He slides into her, swallowing the soft noises of pleasure as her arms wrap around his neck. Mouths slide against each other messily, his movements slow and measured, and she rocks to meet him.

“My love -”

He groans as she teases his lower lip through her teeth. “The things you _do_ to me, sweetheart -”

“I would do more,” she pants, “but you - _ah!_ Yes - _more_ -”

He speeds up his pace, hands tightening on her hips, hard enough to bruise. His marks, hidden from sight, just as she liked them.

“ _Varric_ -”

“Can you come?”

“Yes - oh, yes, I -”

“Come for me, Cassandra, please -”

At her name, she gasps, head dropping back. “Oh - oh, _yes_ -”

Her release is inspiring, her body taut as she lets slip a soft keening noise. He crumbles above her, his own groan hissed as he empties inside her. He exhales, propping himself up on one arm, and her body relaxes against the table with a last deep sigh of satisfaction. 

“ _Shit_.” He huffs a soft laugh. “You know, for all the nights we _don’t_ get, Seeker, we sure make up for it.”

She laughs at that, one hand reaching to cup his cheek. “Oh, Varric. My most loyal Hand, my love, my dearest love.” Her voice is soft as she considers him. “Never wavering, never cruel. You stay, even though it might be easier not to. I would be lost without you.”

He rests his forehead in the crook of her neck, her arms coming around to embrace him. “You would manage,” he murmurs. And she would - they both would. But he had made his choice, when the announcement came that she would ascend to the seat. He would not trade it for anything, most days.

“I do not think so.” But she kisses his head before letting him go, untangling her legs from his waist. “I certainly would not like to find out.”

“Good job I’m not going anywhere, then.”

She smiles, wide and kind, and he kisses her softly, loving her infinitely more for the gentleness in her eyes.

Sometimes it was hard, to be in love with the Divine. But Cassandra was still there, in the corners of Victoria, and when the doors closed she was all his. Always.


	15. Face Value

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you want me?"
> 
> " _Emphatically._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For user LinnyBear, who needed it. <3
> 
> (tw for allusions to abusive relationships, and drunken/disorderly behavior)

It’s not the first time they’ve gotten so loud Varric can’t even think. Usually, it’s sex. Good sex, from the sound of it, but sometimes it’s this. Fighting, shouting, him more so than her. Then it goes back to the sex. Less good, really, because Varric’s never really found make-up sex all that gratifying, especially when the person you’re fucking just told you they wished they’d never met you.

Still.

This time around, though, it’s bad. She’s obviously the level headed one in the relationship, and Varric’s seen her – human, tall, with one of those cuts that only women like her can pull off. It’s severe, just like the way she gets her mail from the box, how quickly and confidently she tosses the junk into the trash – probably judging the hell out of Varric, who peruses the coupon section like a man who enjoys highbrow editorials. Comes from years of _writing_ highbrow editorials, probably.

She hardly sounds like that woman _now._

Varric frowns. Normally, he’d just ignore this, because it always ends the same way. But they’ve never broken anything before, and the second he hears what is obviously a lamp being torn from the wall and _thrown_ , spectacularly, at _his_ wall – that’s when he gets up. He grabs a few things from the kitchen, steps into the hall, and starts banging on her door.

It takes a moment, but she finally opens it. She is certainly, here, not the woman who shreds junk mail and Varric with only a look. Her mascara is smeared under her eye, nose bright red from crying.

“I…yes?”

“I’m baking a cake,” Varric says. “And I was wondering if you happened to have any eggs.”

“Any…you need eggs?”

“I do.”

“ _Who the fuck is that?_ ”

“The neighbor,” she calls out. “He’s baking a cake.”

“ _Tell him to fuck off._ ”

The woman sighs. “I’m sorry. I have no eggs.”

Varric raises a brow. “You sure? Why don’t I just come on in and check.” He brushes past her, moving into the apartment easily. She’s not hard to outrun, at this stage. “Huh,” he says, opening the fridge. “It looks like you _do_ have eggs, but not much else. Do you need anything?” He looks right at her.

“I’m not sure.”

“Like, _anything_.” He stares. She stares back.

“Anything at all,” she says.

“That’s right.”

Her boyfriend emerges from the back of the apartment, looking nothing like Varric imagined he would. He’s tall, dark hair like her own, but _sloppy_ looking. Nothing like the pristine shine of this apartment, or the crispness of her clothes and her walk. He looks very much like he doesn’t belong. Varric is ever so slightly repulsed.

“Can we fucking help you?”

Varric shrugs. “I was looking for eggs. She said you didn’t have any, but this just didn’t seem like an _eggless_ household. Seems more like it’s full of eggs. One of them kinda smells bad though.” He shuts the door to the refrigerator. “You know, I live right next door. You two can get a little…exuberant.”

The woman sighs. “By the _Maker_.”

“And I’m not saying it just for my benefit. It can’t be all that fun for you either. Hard on your furniture, I’ll bet.”

The man scowls. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“Why don’t _you_ go dry up somewhere for the night?” Varric straightens his back. If this piece of shit wants to go, then they’re gonna _go._ He didn’t last as the only dwarf in his prep school on good looks alone. “She lets you in every time, and for the life of me, I can’t see it. Honestly, I can’t. But it’s your life, so I’ll respect those choices, but tonight’s not a good time for you to be taking your bad mood out on everyone else.”

“Oh, I’ll take it out on someone. Could start with you, if you’d like.”

“You’ll regret that,” Varric says quietly. “I don’t recommend it.”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that.”

 

* * *

 

Aveline pinches the bridge of her nose for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“You should have _called_ the _police_ , Varric. I’ve told you a hundred times.”

“Right, but this problem was happening in the _now._ ”

“And in the _now_ , this man could very well press charges.”

Varric snorts. “He could try.”

Aveline sighs. “He probably won’t. The girlfriend doesn’t seem to be giving anything up, but she was very happy to hand him off to someone else.”

“Don’t doubt it,” Varric mutters. “Trying living next door to them.” Aveline grimaces. “Yeah, it hasn’t been fun.”

“Well, the point still stands. You’re a writer, Varric. Not a vigilante.”

He nods his agreement and watches her go, finally heading up the stairs toward his apartment, once the drama seems to have abated. There’s no way he’s sleeping now, so he pulls out a few things he needs to edit and work on, spreading them out on the coffee table.

He isn’t expecting her, but he isn’t surprised, either.

“Come on in,” he says.

“So you do have some propriety,” she says dryly, stepping inside.

“Hey, that was an emergency situation—” He stops, catching her smile. “Right. You’re joking. Kinda hard to tell.” She stands awkwardly in the center of the room before Varric offers her a seat. And then she sits awkwardly, in the center of the couch. “You want some wine?”

“No thank you. I...I only came to express my gratitude, truthfully. You…you did not have to do that. I could have taken care of him.”

“But you weren’t going to.”

“Do not assume—” She pulls a face. “No,” she admits. “I wasn’t. He…we have been struggling. Things were once very good, you know. We were happy. But he lost his job last year, and his brother passed away. I couldn’t bear to end things, not when he was…not like that. Not then.”

“You’re a good woman,” Varric says. “But you gotta know when it’s over.”

“It has been,” she says. “It has been for so long.” She looks at him. “I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Varric. Varric Tethras.”

She blinks. “Oh! Oh, you are a writer.”

“I am.”

“I’ve read some of your books. And I enjoy your pieces for the paper.” She smiles and extends her hand. “Cassandra Pentaghast. It’s a pity it’s taken me so long to know my neighbor.”

Varric shrugs. “Everything happens for a reason, I believe.”

“Yes,” she says. “So do I.”

 

* * *

 

Her ex comes back once, picks his things up in a box, and never comes back. They celebrate with a glass of wine, and Varric lets her peek at a manuscript, after _swearing_ up and down that she won’t say a word.

“I won’t!” she insists, practically standing on her toes as he rummages through his desk for it.

“You’re like a kid at Satinalia.”

“To be fair, I’ve been given some of your books as gifts.”

“So I’m seeing an actual reenactment of you that very morning, last year.”

“Yes,” she says, and tears the papers from his hands.

 

* * *

 

Six months from the day they met for the first, real time, Cassandra decides she wants to learn to cook.

It goes over as well as anything Varric’s ever attempted.

“Where did I go wrong?” she mutters, flipping through the take out menus as Varric attempts to scrape whatever they were making off the pan and into the trash.

“You cooked this fish too long, for starters,” he says.

Cassandra frowns and says, “It’s _chicken_ ,” before she orders noodles.

After, they sit on the couch, his legs thrown over her lap, debating whether she should try the endeavor again.

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Varric argues. “If you let this be your only time, then you’ll resent cooking, and then the entire profession.”

“I already resent professional chefs for being better at something than me,” she says. “What is so special about being able to _flambé_ something?”

“See? You’re just bitter, now. You should take some lessons, or get a cookbook.”

“Are you saying I couldn’t teach myself?”

“You’re painting me into a corner here, woman.”

“Ah.” She sets her carton down, pushing his legs off of her. “So now you feel trapped.”

“I do.”

“By me.”

“Definitely by you.” Free of his noodles, Varric leans back, hands behind his head. “Not a bad feeling, though.”

Cassandra raises a brow. “No?”

“Nah. You…make it fun.” He swallows, acutely aware of the suggestive nature of his words.

She, apparently, is as well, choosing this precise moment to lean forward, right as Varric sits up straight.

“I…”

“Varric,” she says quietly. “I should be honest with you.”

He nods. “Okay.”

“I have been thinking of you. Quite a lot, actually.” She looks down before glancing back up, eyes hooded by her lashes in a way that really _should not_ be so fucking attractive.

“I, um. I do, too. I mean, me too. I…I think of you. Not me. I don’t think about me much, really. Nothing all that important to think about.” He laughs weakly. “Shit.”

She smiles. “Do I make you nervous?”

“Um. Very.”

“I’m not,” she says.

“No butterflies?” he asks. _Because I’ve got them. Crammed down my fucking throat._

“None. Feel,” she adds, grabbing his hand and drawing it under her shirt, pressing it over her stomach.

“ _Shit_ , Cassandra—”

“Kiss me,” she says. Varric nods, both hands under her shirt now, gripping her waist and drawing her close. She raises up, cupping his face in her hands, climbing into his lap. “I don’t want to imagine it any longer.”

With a groan, Varric does as he’s told, and they both tumble back onto the couch, one of her legs wrapping around his waist, bringing him even closer. His hands work her shirt up higher, until she reaches down and yanks it off herself, tossing it away. Varric grins, making his way down her neck and chest, fingers flicking the hooks of her bra apart and pulling it away. “Too fast?” he asks.

Cassandra scowls. “ _Faster_ ,” she snaps, and pulls his shirt off in one go. “Maker, _yes._ ”

“Chest hair fan, huh?”

“You…have no idea.” She runs her hands over it, sealing the deal with a searing kiss, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth. “Fuck me,” she says, and Varric almost falls off the couch.

“Yes, _ma’am._ ” He moves to migrate toward the bedroom, but Cassandra shakes her head. “You—”

“Right here. Sit up.” Varric nods, sitting up straight as she settles into his lap, her breasts such a beautiful, _perfect_ distance from his mouth, just sitting there, waiting to be tasted –

He whines when she pulls back, standing so she can push her leggings down to the floor and toss them away.

“In good time,” she says.

“I’m not above begging.”

“Mmm. Now _that_ , I would like to see.” In one fluid movement, she drops to her knees and reaches forward, undoing the button of his jeans and pulling them down. “There we are.”

“Uh, _yeah_ —”

“May I?”

“Shit, _fuck_ , yes.”

Cassandra laughs, a perfect, _wonderful_ thing that reaches her eyes, just before she wraps her hand around his cock, and slides her tongue down his length.

And fucking _balls_ , it’s been a long time. He’s worried he’s going to push too far into her mouth, or accidentally blow his load before he can fuck her properly. But she’s an expert, that much is obvious, and she knows how to tease, how to draw out the sensation until he's a writhing, pleading mess under her hands, and she looks properly satisfied.

“Well,” she says. “You _do_ beg.”

“Oh, _fuck, fuck_ , Cassandra, _please_ —”

“Do you want me?” she says.

“ _Emphatically._ ”

She laughs, standing, _naked_ , and straddling his waist. One swift move is all it takes for her to raise herself up and, quickly, lower herself onto his cock.

It’s endearing, and a nice change of pace, to see that _she’s_ the one caught off guard.

“ _Varric._ ”

He moans. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, _yes_ —” She closes her eyes, clenching around him and adjusting. Varric hisses, fingers squeezing her hips. “You are…” She laughs, a little wild, and looks at him. “You are, ah, _bigger_ , than the last.”

Varric chuckles. “Heard that one before.”

“I am serious.”

He nods. “Oh, I believe you, sweetheart.”

“Ass.”

“Later,” he says, and helps lift her up.

Her hands squeeze his shoulders as she fucks herself on his cock, intensity growing as her confidence blooms. He tells her what she needs to hear – that she’s beautiful, that she’s so _good_ , feels incredible, _is_ incredible for taking so much, for making him feel this way. And it’s not just that she needs it – he needs to say it. He believes all of it.

Eventually, she sits straight up – and he’ll have to figure out what she’s doing to keep those thighs so strong because _damn_ – cupping her breasts as she raises and lowers herself on his cock so quickly Varric can hardly register one thrust and the next. He manages to snake one hand between them, sliding his thumb over her clit as they fuck.

“Come for me,” he says. “I know you want to.”

“I do, oh _Varric,_ I do—”

“Just like this, show me. Get loud—” She cries out as he pushes up, _hard_. “ _Louder_ , Cassandra.”

“ _Yes, yes, yes_ —” Her mouth falls open, and Varric _feels it_ , the moment she comes, the quick grab of her muscles around his cock, right as she _screams._

He’s quick, and nimble, everyone forgets that part. It only takes a second of rearranging their now mostly useless limbs for him to have her on her back so he can _fuck_ her.

“Come on, sweetheart, _come on_ —”

“Oh, fuck—”

“There we go.” He grips the arm of the couch tighter, feeling along the edge of his climax, looking right at her. “Come on, _take it_ , take it, Cassandra. Fuck, you feel so good—”

“ _Please, please_ —”

“You want it, don’t you?” She nods frantically, and it only takes a handful of thrusts for Varric to finally come, shouting her name and gripping her hair in his hands.

For a while, they lay like that, fiercely connected at the waist, until Varric can't take it. He pulls out, dropping his head onto her shoulder as she catches her breath.

“Um. Fuck.”

“Agreed,” she says, winded.

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” She has scratches in a few places down her sides – Varric hadn’t even realized he’d done it.

“It’s fine,” she says, brushing the hair from his face. She looks sated. “I don’t mind.”

“Mmm, good.” He nuzzles her neck. “I’d like to lay down somewhere though. Really stretch out.”

She laughs. “You just want a better vantage point next time.”

“Well, yeah,” he says, finally sitting up. “Next time I’m fucking you from behind. I know how big the mirror on your vanity is. I want you to see your face.”

Cassandra doesn’t blush, or miss a beat. “Fair’s fair,” she says. “You’ll be able to see your own face when I fuck _you_ from behind later.” She smiles, getting up off the couch and heading back into her bedroom.

Varric groans, falling face-first into the couch.

She might be the death of him, but shit if it won’t be _exquisite._


	16. Late Rapture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric has a proposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed this way too much. -w.l

Cassandra is training – Varric is _lingering._ This should be her first clue that what is about to occur is in no way normal or has any sort of precedent, but she cannot stop herself from planting her sword in the ground, turning to him with arms crossed over her chest and proclaiming – “You are _staring._ ”

To his credit, he doesn’t go on the defensive. That would have been far too easy.

“You’re a woman worth staring at.” Cassandra’s nostrils flare, but Varric only shrugs. “Call ‘em like I see ‘em, Seeker.”

Six weeks ago, she might have _hit_ him for saying something like that, but six weeks ago she had not been nursing the boldest, frankest desire for the dwarf she could imagine one person _having_ for someone else.

If it had not made her come, _spectacularly_ , she might have written it off as a fluke.

But it was true, and it was real. She _wanted_ Varric.

Perhaps the reason she gravitated toward romances was not because she longed for the life of the unattached heroine, but because that life was already hers, and she was caught in the middle of living it.

“Can I help you with something?” she asks, even though she wants to ask if he will help _her_ instead.

“Actually.” He steps closer. His tone is casual, but there is a change in his stance, as if guarding himself from something. She wonders if he expects her to strike him. “Actually, you can. See, I took your, ah, _feelings_ for the romance serial to heart. You told me the more intimate scenes were a bit…tempered for your taste, but also a _tad_ unrealistic.”

“I cite your lack of experience,” she says dryly.

“And I told _you_ that was a claim made with bias. Just because _you_ don’t find me, you know, _appealing_ —”

“I did not say that I didn’t.”

It takes more will than one could imagine for her not clamp her entire hand over her mouth like a school girl.

They both remain perfectly still, the words settling between them.

He clears his throat. “You know, I had like an entire introduction for this planned, with a lot of excuses and reasons why you should agree, but…not necessary anymore, apparently.” He seems to be wringing his hands, a bit of his confidence waning.

“Varric. Spit it out.”

He sighs. “I’d like to write a scene where she’s, you know. Enjoying herself.”

“Masturbating,” Cassandra says. “We are not _teens_ , Varric.”

“Yeah, well, you nearly stabbed through the part of me that makes _masturbating_ possible, so I just don’t want to offend, Seeker.” He sighs. “I wondered if you might…help. With the process.”

She raises a brow. “You’d like me to tell you about it?”

“…Sort of.”

“Varric, you—” She freezes, and in that moment they are both acutely aware of exactly what he is asking her to do. “Oh.”

“Look, you’re the only one I could think to ask, and you’re the only one who _cares_ this much—”

“Stop _talking_ ,” she grits out. “I am _thinking._ ”

“Holy shit, you’re _considering_ it—”

Cassandra holds up a hand, and Varric presses his lips together, fists clenched over his gut, like she might _kick_ him.

She doesn’t, but she’s enjoying making him sweat.

“I will…think about it,” she says. “And tell you tonight.”

“Alright. Where should we meet?”

“Your room will suffice,” she says, and turns to pull her sword from the ground, closing off any further conversation.

It is only after he goes that she allows herself to breathe.

 

* * *

 

He paces. He has no idea when she’s going to get here, no idea what she’s going to say, or how he’ll react. It isn’t a trick, he isn’t inviting her here under false pretenses. This is a real scene, in a real book – and she might not know it, but this entire thing isn’t without pretense. Rivaini was the one who helped him figure out exactly how it might feel, how heavy the weight of a human woman on a man’s waist could be.

Platonically, of course. Her heart, at the time, certainly belonged to another. And Varric had been clinging to a very staunch _no humans_ policy.

And then Cassandra Pentaghast became the echo that caused the avalanche – and he was _ruined._

Her knock startles him.

Varric fumbles the bolt that locks the door to his room for a moment before letting her inside. She seems…confident, but her expression is unreadable, and he can’t imagine her answer, in either direction.

He tries for suave, and _misses._

“It’s uh. It’s nice to see you. I mean. Again. I saw you earlier—”

She frowns. “Stop that.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Do you have wine? Perhaps it will help.”

“Help…”

She sighs, finding the bottle and glasses and setting them on his desk. “I will help you. Under the condition that you speak of this to _no one_.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Be _serious_ , Varric.”

“I am! I mean, I understand the saying’s not really mine to use, but cut me some slack, Seeker. I’m not telling anyone. It’ll stay between you and me, promise.” She nods, drinking deeply from her wine. “So let’s plan it out then, shall we?”

Cassandra frowns. “What is there to plan?”

“I…” Varric falters. “Well, for starters, _when_ you’d be comfortable doing it. How far you’d like to go. How much you want me to see—” He ticks them off on his fingers as he rummages around his desk for a piece of paper and something to write with. “When’s good for you?”

Cassandra blinks. “You…you have considered all those things?”

“Naturally. Maybe you don’t want me to see you finish. Maybe you’d prefer I just listen. Hell, maybe listening—”

“Now,” she says, setting down her glass.

“Um, what?”

“I would like to do it now.”

Varric holds his paper and quill to his chest. “Like, right now.”

“Don’t make me say it again.” She sits on the edge of the bed to work off her boots. “You may watch through to the end, and you may sit wherever you’d like. That you keep your notes to yourself is all that I ask.”

 _Like they’re ever leaving my sight after this_ , he thinks, mouth going dry as she sets her boots next to his desk chair.

“Sure,” he says hoarsely.

Cassandra nods, arms hanging by her side. “How…what I mean to say is…” She glances at her tunic. “How… _naked_ would she be?”

“Ah.” Right, cold, hard – _poor word choice, poor word choice, poor word choice_ – details. The facts. “Well, she’s in a place of relative comfort and privacy. I thought, perhaps, she might use this as a chance to be a little free, out of the restraints of her usual garb, if you will.”

“Naked,” Cassandra says.

“Yes. Naked.” He shrugs. “But it’s whatever you prefer. I don’t—” Varric turns to busy himself with nothing in particular. “I don’t know how _you_ usually do it.” _Not that I haven’t imagined it._

“If circumstances allow, I…prefer to be…naked.”

Varric still has his back to her. “Alright then. Naked it is.” He shuffles a few papers, but there isn’t a noise in the entire keep that could be louder than the sound of Cassandra taking off her clothes in his room. He hears the soft brush of her tunic over her skin, the way it drapes over the back of his chair. A gentle _clink_ tells him she is undoing the buckles of her breeches, sliding them down her legs. A moment of silence. Then:

“Varric?”

He turns, and stops breathing.

She is sat on the edge of his bed, her legs crossed, one arm attempting to cover her breasts. There is a faint blush over her cheeks, and he notices, for the first time, that she has a smattering of freckles along her jaw.

“Thank you,” she says. “For…turning away.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Carefully, he pulls his chair closer to the bed balancing a book and paper in his lap. “If you ever want to stop, just say so.”

“Alright.”

“And if you need me to stop watching, just—”

“ _Varric._ ” Her tone is sharper, now – Varric wonders how thin the veil of ‘research’ is between them, and just how _much_ she wants this.

Because he _wants_ this.

“Sorry.” He makes a test scribble on his page. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Cassandra exhales, and the arm covering her chest moves, her legs unfold from one another – it all blooms outward, revealing her body – and it is _beautiful._ Varric has seen many, across what feels like many lifetimes. He finds they each tell a story, and the Seeker’s is no different. The story is uniquely hers, of course, and what Varric wouldn’t give to be able to map out every line and corner, learn every tale that goes with it, every secret that hides inside.

But that would require so much _more_ than he has ever thought she might give him, and though she is certainly allowing him to see so much, he doubts after this anything can really come of it.

He can imagine, as he often has, and that will have to be enough.

Cassandra stretches out on the bed – _his bed, fuck_ – her head resting on the extra pillows he threw there, just before she arrived, not sure where his evening would really go, not even certain she’d say yes. She breathes, appearing to relax and focus on a point far away from him.

For a moment, she’s very still, her breathing slow and her hands flexing by her sides.

“Cassandra—”

“Don’t speak,” she says, and Varric goes still.

After a moment, one hand slides over her hip, traveling upwards to cup her breast. She grazes the side, using one finger to trace lazy circles around her nipple. It pebbles, becomes hard under her touch as she squirms on the bed. Varric notes that she’s sensitive there, that it clearly gives her some pleasure to gently squeeze and roll the nipple between her thumb and finger. Her lips part, an easy breath falling from her mouth, the beginnings of a moan.

Her breathing becomes quicker, and she doesn’t stop kneading her breast as her other hand slides between her legs, her middle finger stroking up over her clit. She bends one knee, and Varric can see it perfectly, can hear the slick sounds of now two fingers pressing against herself. Her breath hitches up, becomes a moan.

Varric makes a note of how it sounds, but it will his last cohesive line for the evening. The press of his cock against his trousers is insistent, reminding him of his own work to do once she’s done.

 _I want to fuck you_ , he thinks. The words make it to paper. Cassandra’s moans become louder.

Her hips arch off the bed, chin tipping upward as she cries out. The stroke of her fingers between her legs becomes less rhythmic, more urgent as she moves closer to her climax. She slows down, only to pick her pace back up again. Every so often she stops completely, only to fuck two, sometimes three, of her own fingers. The process mesmerizes Varric – she knows her body intimately, in battle, in training, and of course in this. How could she not?

“ _Ah!_ ” Cassandra’s voice grows louder, most frantic as she brings herself closer, the hand grasping her breast now fisting the blankets beneath her. Varric sees her knuckles go white as she holds on, as if the force of her own orgasm might expel her from the bed. Varric takes a chance, and looks right into her eyes.

She looks back – pupils blown wide with desire, mouth hanging open as wordless cry after cry tumbles from her lips, until Varric _swears_ he sees it, that bottom lip caught between her teeth, and it could be any noise, any at all –

“ _V-Varric_ —”

It takes all the self-control he has not to shout _yes._

And then, she comes. Her body goes rigid with it, her legs quiver in their place as they clamp down on her fingers and she tugs at the blanket under her as if determined to tear it to pieces in her ecstasy.

Varric is sweating. Cassandra is still _moaning._

Both of her hands finally rest on either side of her hips, and she lays back against the pillows, the noises disappearing into the air between them, the only thing left now her ragged breaths, in perfect time with Varric’s own.

He swallows, but there is a fist in his throat, and he thinks he might be dying, quite possibly.

Cassandra seems to catch her breath, sitting up with a breathy little noise and leaning back on her elbows. She looks right at him, and Varric is so busy staring at the unraveling ends of her braid that he almost doesn’t hear her –

“I think you should fuck me.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you…sure?”

Cassandra hates repeating herself, so she glances down at the erection Varric has been doing a poor job of covering since she arrived earlier this evening. He looks down, has the courtesy to look sheepish about it, but it’s…endearing.

“You, uh, probably aren’t surprised.”

“Only by myself,” she admits.

“Didn’t think you’d ever do this?”

“I never thought I would have the chance.”

Varric nods. “I’ve never watched before.”

“Are you done watching?” she asks, bending her knees and spreading them, just so. “Because I am done waiting.”

Varric peels out of his tunic and breeches in a flash, chucking them over his shoulder and slipping right between her legs. The first thing he does is touch her, grinding his palm against her clit. She cries out, still sensitive.

“ _Varric_ —”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Maker take you, _yes_.” Cassandra wraps her arms around his neck as their lips crash together, and it is teeth and tongue and everything she thought it might be. Varric moans, his cock slipping against her thigh, one hand gripping the back of her head, the other palming her ass. She _wants him_ , Maker she does, and it is entirely possible for them to kiss _and_ fuck at the same time, and she intends on telling him so, but –

He wraps his hand around the base of his cock and _fills_ her.

Cassandra’s mouth gapes against his, her tongue hangs loose between them as she tries to find the noise inside of her to properly express how she _feels_ right now.

It is guttural, desperate and _loud._ Varric grins as his hips began to move, pumping in and out of her as fast as he can manage. The only sounds in the room now are her desperate pleas for _more, fuck, more, yes_ and the sharp sound of skin on skin. At one point, he says her name, says it low and needy in a way that makes her want to hold him and never let go.

“ _Cassandra._ ”

His eyes, she realizes, haven’t left hers. Not since before she came the first time. It should unnerve her, this unbridled attention, the rawness of his gaze – but she hooks her arm around his neck and holds him to her, wraps her legs around his waist and urges him on.

“Will you come for me?” she asks. Varric nods, his thrusts becoming more erratic, eyes fluttering closed as he edges closer to his climax. “You feel so _good_ inside of me. I’ve been dreaming of this. Touching myself and thinking about your cock.”

“ _Oh_ , fuck—”

“You have, too,” she says, gasping as he thrusts in particularly hard. “You have thought about me, I see it in your eyes when you look at me.”

“All the fucking time,” he groans.

“You’re close, Varric.”

He gasps. “Say it again.”

“Your name?” He nods. “Varric. _Varric, oh_ —” He goes rigid inside her, coming with a groan as his forehead falls onto her shoulder, and they collapse together in mess of limbs on his bed. Cassandra huffs. “You are heavy.”

Varric groans, pulling out and rolling to the side. “You’re tinier than you look.” Cassandra laughs and shivers, finally coming down. “Shit, you’re cold.” With a grunt, he shifts off the bed and tugs on the blankets, chuckling when she wiggles under that. “That’s adorable.”

“I am not adorable.”

“Just a little bit,” he says, and climbs back into bed with her.

“Did you take notes?” Cassandra asks.

“Uh, yeah.” Varric clears his throat. “Mostly.”

“Mostly.”

“You were distracting,” he says plainly. “But this night’s been pretty unforgettable.”

“True.” Cassandra presses herself against his side, tucking herself into the crook of his arm.

“Besides.” Varric kisses the top of her head, and Cassandra feels _thrilled_ at what it means. “If I forget, I suppose now I could just ask for a repeat performance?”

“If you ask nicely,” she murmurs, feeling herself beginning to doze off.

“I will be a picture perfect gentleman about it, my lady.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” she says, feeling his arm tighten around her. She is halfway to sleep, but she hears it, spoken into her hair, murmured against her skin –

“Better than I imagined,” he whispers. “You never cease to amaze me.”


	17. The Great Impersonation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosplay time? Cosplay time!
> 
> -v.

He does not remember how the joke started, only that she is probably going to choke, she is laughing so hard. And really, he thinks, shifting the weight of the fur draped over his shoulders, that was not a terrible way for the Seeker to go.

His voice lowers again, adopting that awful rough Fereldan accent he had never quite gotten his vocal chords around. “Now, then, Seeker Pentaghast,” he says, and stops again as she reaches out to shove him - and misses, overbalancing and toppling backwards. “Shit -” The accent drops as he reaches out to haul her back up. “You alright?”

“You are - you are ridiculous,” she gasps, but her smile is bright and her hand tight around his.

“Yeah,” he admits, “but you’re laughing. That’s good enough for me.”

She leans back on her free hand, smile softening as she regards him. He feels warm beneath her gaze, despite the inclement weather. A storm had rolled over Skyhold quite suddenly, forcing everyone indoors, and the pair had taken advantage of the quiet to steal a few precious hours.

He was glad of the break, in truth. Cassandra had been working hard, and with precious little progress in Kirkwall he was tied to his desk more days than not. They had barely spent five minutes together all week. But now, thanks to the rain lashing against the shutters, he has an entire afternoon in her company.

“Hey.”

“What?”

“If I’m Curly, you’re the Inquisitor.”

She shoves him again. “I am not -”

“Yeah, I know you’re not _actually_ the Inquisitor. But just pretend for a minute that you are - that you’re the mysterious and overworked Herald, and that I’m the competent - don’t laugh,” he adds as her lips twitch, “the competent and committed Commander.”

“Varric -”

“Just pretend.” He smiles. “We can act out their first kiss. You always said it was romantic.”

He knows he has her at that, her back straightening slightly as she considers the woman she followed. With a slight nod, she starts to unbuckle her armour.

“Well, perhaps it would be instructive - for your book, of course.”

He grins. “Of course.” Primping his fur, he looks up at her. “You’ll have to sit on the floor.”

“What?”

“Well, I’m not as tall as Curly, and he’s taller than her. So you’ll have to sit on the floor.”

She pulls a face. “He is not _that_ much taller than her.”

“It’s all relative to me, Seeker.” He stomps over to the fire. “How about this footstool, then?”

“That is acceptable.”

He beckons her join him, taking the opportunity to run a hand down her arm. She would often forgo plate armour in his chambers, but usually in favour of something lighter yet still protective. Of course, getting her out of that was always half the fun, but it was nice to be able to be free with her.

“So where do we begin?”

Cassandra settles on the stool, legs pressed together neatly as she smiles, tilting her head back slightly to meet his eyes. The height difference was novel, and he could tell she was intrigued by it.

“Well, they met on the battlements.”

“Of course. The fire can act the part of the sun.” He shields his eyes, adopting the accent once more. “Inquisitor. Fine weather we’re having.”

Immediately she laughs, covering her mouth with one hand. “Varric!”

“I’m afraid you have mistaken me for that damned fool of a dwarf, Inquisitor -”

“Oh, he would _never_ say that!”

“I’ll have you know, Seeker,” he points out, dropping the voice, “he’s called me that plenty of times. To my face.” Her smile drops for a moment, and he hastens to clarify, “I definitely deserved it, at the time.”

“Oh. Still -”

He laughs. “It’s alright. All in good fun.”

She smiles, before straightening again, adopting a serious expression. “Commander,” she purrs.

Now is it Varric’s turn to let out a laugh. “That’s your impression of our illustrious leader?”

She shoves him. “Do not mock me!”

“She’s quiet and simpering, not sultry!” He laughs, kissing her forehead. “Not all women can be you, sweetheart.”

“Flatterer,” she grumbles, but he knows he is winning when the corners of her mouth quirk up. “Fine. How must I act?”

“She was nervous - she wanted something more, but she didn’t know if he did. You remember how _that_ feels, surely.”

She blushes, turning her head away. “I… suppose.”

“Exactly,” he murmurs, bringing a hand up to his lips. “Just relax.”

She smiles. “You are asking me to act. Hardly relaxing.”

He chuckles, before pulling back, rearranging his fur. “We can stop if you want. It’s silly, I know.”

“No, I want to!” She runs a hand over her hair, before straightening again. “I can do it. I can.”

Varric smiles, before nodding. “Inquisitor,” he says again, the gruff voice back. She immediately laughs, but looks contrite.

“Commander,” she replies, voice quieter. “Did you wish to speak to me?”

“Aye. I was hoping that we might… pool our resources, so to speak.”

She pulls a face. “Varric!”

“Artistic license, Seeker, stick with it.” He grins. “And then Jim walked up -”

“We do not have a Jim,” she points out, body shaking from her held-back laughter.

“No, but I am a _very_ good actor.” With a flourish, he turns towards the door. “How _dare_ you interrupt my time with the Inquisitor, Jim!”

She laughs outright, and he tosses a wink over his shoulder as she tries to stay upright on the stool. “Oh, poor Jim! He was traumatised.”

“Well, Curly can be very intimidating. What came next?”

“She said that -”

But Varric _knows_ , has heard the story from Cassandra’s breathless lips countless times, and does not hesitate to re-enact Cullen’s bold move as he turn to her and closes the gap between them. 

Cassandra makes a soft noise of surprise as she melts into him, hands coming up to bunch around his shirt as he tilts her head back. This angle was new, strange but fantastic, and as her mouth opens to his touch he sends a quick thanks to whatever had inspired the ridiculous impression in the first place.

Her tongue is sweet, tentative at the swell of his lip, and he bites back a moan at her touch. His hand curls around her hair, a gentle hold as he suddenly regrets keeping his gloves on. 

She stares up at him, something in her eyes shifting slightly.

“Commander,” she whispers.

His hand brushes her cheek softly. “Inquisitor,” he responds, and smiles as her hands tug at his shirt, pulling him back into another heated kiss. His arms wrap around her waist, hoisting her off the stool and into the safety of his arms as he carries her over to the desk.

“What are you -”

He gently places her in the chair before sweeping the detritus off his desk with a flourish - the more valuable items had already been put away, but a cascade of papers litter the floor as Cassandra lets out a soft noise.

“Oh!”

“To your liking, my lady?”

She smiles, blushing as she nods. “Did he tell you he did that?”

“ _She_ did, actually. You're not the only one who gossips with our mighty leader about her lover.”

“Do you tell her about us?”

He laughs, hoisting her up onto the desk. “Ah, Seeker,” he teases, “that would be telling.”

She blushes even more. “I do. Only good things -”

He cuts her off with another kiss, softer this time as his hands trail down her waist. “I know,” he murmurs. “You're _very_ flattering about me.”

“Varric -”

“We're pretending, aren't we?” He grins, thumbs hooking into her waistband. “You make a wonderful Inquisitor. I'd follow you anywhere.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “You are ridiculous.”

“I try.” Pulling down her trousers, he kisses her knee, trailing his still-gloved hands up her thigh slowly. Her breath hitches.

“Varric -”

Varric knows a little of that first dance between Commander and Inquisitor - Cullen was easy to read, with his blushes and secret smiles, and despite Kirkwall (perhaps _because_ of Kirkwall) they were friends of a sort. Varric knew about the withdrawal from lyrium, its physical effects, Cullen’s struggle. Varric knew Cullen would never want to disappoint, despite that.

Varric could easily work out where that dance had led.

“ _Ha_ \- what are you doi-” The rest of the word disappears with a long whine as his tongue presses against her heat, her hands scrabbling against the desk for purchase as her back arches. “Please - _please_ -”

He pulls back slightly, teasing as she groans. “The mighty Inquisitor, _begging_.” He grins against her thigh. “Lucky me.”

“You will not be so lucky if you -”

“Is that an order?”

Her head snaps up, eyes meeting his with a bright gleam. “Yes.” She props herself up on her elbow, smile widening. “I order you, _Commander._ ”

“Order me to what?”

She falters at that, and Varric feels a little bad - even under normal circumstances, Cassandra had trouble vocalising her desires. Not prudishness, he knew well that her directness and her want would always get her - and him - where she needed to be. No, it was simply hard to say the words. She confessed to feeling foolish, despite his promise that it was the very opposite.

But something is different today, he realises, as her gaze hardens.

“I order you to make me come,” she says quietly. “Make me forget about the Breach. Make me scream.”

Varric swallows, shuffling slightly as his pants become tight.

“Do it, Commander.”

“As the Herald wills it,” he replies, and before she can respond he loops an arm around her leg, pushes it over his shoulder and presses his mouth against her cunt.

She cries out, one hand flying to his hair and curling around the strands. “Ah! Maker, yes -”

Propping himself up on one elbow, he hums against her, slick flesh parting for his tongue. She was already wet, eager at his touch, and he fancies she will not last long. Still, as he moves his mouth to make way for nimble gloved fingers, he smiles as she finds her voice once more.

“So good - my love, you are so good -” Her breath comes in a ragged gasp as his tongue swirls over her clit, fingers tightening in his hair. “Again - do that again -”

He teases her, slowing his pace and pressing gentle kisses everywhere but where she wanted his lips, and her fingers scratch at his scalp in need. He takes the hint, fingers pressing just so as his mouth closes over her once more.

“Yes - yes - Maker, please, there there oh yes _there_ -”

She comes, explosive and loud as she nearly tears his hair out, and he moans as her juices slide over his tongue and down his chin, eagerly lapping them up as she shakes around his fingers. 

Eventually, she stills, twitching at his gentle touches. “Varric -”

He surges up, knee between her legs as he kisses her, messy and lingering. “I love you,” he manages between breaths. “You were so good -”

She whines, hips pressing against his leg. “I want you - _you_ -” She pushes the fur off his shoulders - in truth, he was surprised it had stayed on - and pulls him in closer.

“Easy, easy. I've got you, Seeker.”

“Varric - my love, _my_ love -”

He groans as her hand finds its way between them, rubbing against his trousers. “Cassandra -”

“I want you,” she repeats, and Varric finds it hard to deny her. Grabbing her waist, he picks her up again, carrying her to the bed and kicking off his boots. 

A thought occurs to him, and he grins as he strips himself of breeches.

“Maybe we don't tell the Inquisitor about this?”

She laughs, long legs wrapping around his waist. “I do not tell her everything!”

He slides into her, a strangled noise escaping him.

“Ah - _fuck_ , sweetheart -”

She pushes him back, flipping them over with surprising ease as she places her hands on his chest and grins down at him.

“Better?”

“Can't complain,” he teases, though the tone gives way to desire when her hips start moving. “Definitely can't complain -”

“ _This_ is what I do not tell her,” she murmurs, “how you fill me completely, how you feel inside me. This is ours, only ours -”

He bucks against her, causing her to gasp, hands tight enough to leave marks as he takes his pleasure. “I need to come - I need -”

Her hands cups his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “Then come,” she says, as commanding as she had been earlier, and he groans and stutters against her mouth as she claims it, his release swift and his energy sapped.

“Shit.”

“You say that a lot,” she points out, smiling.

“You leave me speechless, what can I say?”

“Perhaps,” she murmurs, “we should act out _our_ firsts.”

He grins. “Research purposes, of course.”

She laughs. “No, Varric. Because I want to.”

“Oh, well then, far be it from me to -”

She cuts him off, lips achingly gentle in an echo of that first tentative kiss all those months ago - but where before had been worry and fear of rejection, now sits comfort and ease. He is not quite sure he will ever get used to it.

“I love you,” he sighs happily as she pulls away, her smile a perfect mirror of his own.

“And I you, my dear heart.” She smiles, and his heart skips. Maker, but he was a lucky bastard.


	18. Framed in Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember that Chantry school uniform? Me too. -v.
> 
> If you're not down for **blowjobs, brief suggestions of religious roleplay in a sexual scenario** , or **the schoolgirl fetish being mentioned** , you might want to skip this chapter.

"Forgive me Brother, for I have sinned," Cassandra whispers. Her eyes are downcast, her hands clenched in her lap. She is a picture of repentant humility - except that the uniform she wears is far too small for decency.

“Do you have to call me ‘Brother’? It sounds… weird.”

Cassandra huffs, breaking character for the final time that night. "It is a _title_ , Varric. Do you want to do this or not?"

Varric swallows audibly. "... go on."

Assuming her position again, she closes her eyes.

It had been a whim, in truth - Varric had mentioned her uniform, purely out of curiosity about the life she had led before he had met her, and she had teasingly suggested she might wear it again. How that had evolved into roleplay, she was not entirely sure, though she was almost entirely confident it had been her idea.

Which was something of a departure from their usual, in truth.

“I have lain with a man who is not my husband. I have thought of him often.”

“What kind of thoughts?”

“I think of him and I together. In bed, on the dresser, over the kitchen table… in my mind there is little we have not done.”

“And how does that make you feel?”

Her breath catches. “It is a sin -”

“It is,” he murmurs, “but true repentance cannot be recited. It must be felt.”

He is going off-script, but there is a thrill down her spine at his words.

“Do you feel repentant?” His hand trails up her leg slowly, softly. “Do you feel shame?”

To her credit, she does not whimper.

“Do you know how bad you've been?”

His fingers graze against her heat, and she cannot help the moan that escapes her lips.

Varric chuckles. “My little sinner. So wet at the thought of your crimes.”

She can feel her face burning up, suddenly overcome with the weight of what they were doing. _Andraste guide me._

His hand pulls away, gentle as it settles on her knee. “The Maker _sees_ you, Cassandra.” His voice is low enough to be felt in her chest, and she shivers at it. “And He is overjoyed.”

“Wh- what?”

“He took from us His bride Andraste, to punish us for turning from Him in our hatred and wars. But He sees _you_ , heart full of love… and He is glad.” His forehead rests against her temple as he whispers in her ear. “It’s not a sin to love, Cassandra. It’s _never_ a sin to love.”

She nods, rewarded with a soft kiss to her cheek. “I know. I know, I -”

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s alright.”

“I am not -” But she _is_ , she realises, her chest too tight and her cheeks damp. She rubs at her face slowly. “I know,” she repeats quietly as she opens her eyes. “I _do_. It just… I did not always know.”

He smiles warmly as his hand rests on her thigh, soothing strokes on his thumb as his free arm wraps around her waist. “The Chantry aren’t exactly clear about the lines,” he agrees, “especially when you’re young. I never really understood it myself for a long time.”

“What I have here - what we have… I _know_ that is good. I _know_ the Maker smiles on us.” She smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. I took us away from the moment. Hardly attractive to be debating theology.”

“It’s alright. We should have just stuck to the good parts of your uniform.” At her raised eyebrow, he grins, tugging at the skirt. “The actual uniform, and not what it stood for.”

She laughs, leaning into his body. “Perhaps.”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I do. And I love you, Varric. You are so kind.”

“You make me kind. I was a grumpy old sod before you, honest.” She laughs at that, and he presses another kiss to her cheek before pulling away. “Come on. Put your big girl pants back on and pick a movie, and I'll order Thai.”

“Are you sure? We can still -”

“Religious dogma’s kind of a boner killer. Right now I want food and snuggling up on the couch, if that's alright with you.”

A warmth settles in her stomach as she watches him head into the main room. Loving Varric definitely was no sin, she thinks fondly. If anything, it is a blessing.

*

Two months pass - two months of stolen evenings and frantic nights and the occasional lazy morning and Cassandra holds in her hand the key to his apartment like it is a secret, clutched so tightly that the teeth print into her skin.

She rarely came when he was not home - what was the point? But he was running late, and she had been unexpectedly early, and here she was, unattended in his sanctuary and feeling mischievous. It was a new feeling, something exciting that creeps through her bones slowly as she walks through the rooms, still half-expecting to hear his voice or catch sight of him in the corner of her eye. But he does not appear, and so with a giggle that almost feels too young for her voice, she sets to work finding something to amuse herself with.

She wanted one of his shirts - they were always more comfortable than her own, for reasons she could never quite fathom, but she had not yet managed to sneak one out of the apartment for her own pleasure. The idea of lying in her bed, dressed only in a shirt that smelled of him… it appealed to her greatly. Perhaps she would do that now, in his bed - perhaps, she thinks with smirk, she would be brazen, and tease him with a photo. Opening the wardrobe, she considers her options - and then it catches her eye.

The skirt - _her_ skirt, her old school skirt, left behind an overnight bag. Suddenly she remembers the last time she had worn it, the ridiculous attempt at some naughty role play that had left her a little shaken and him more than a little kind. In the end they had fallen asleep on the couch and woken up with soft kisses and gentler words, and she had felt utterly blessed.

She considers it with a smile. It was long past time to thank him for that.

*

She is reading when he finally comes home, somewhat hidden by the couch back as he bustles around, dropping his bag and jacket by the door. She has never seen this side of him, always coming when he is long home and settled. It is strangely intimate, having Varric come home to her.

She stands, brushing the skirt down as she smiles, waiting for the penny to drop.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” he starts, “there was an explosion in Rivain and the reports were delayed by the weather in Tevinter and - you know what, you don’t want to hear all this… all…”

Varric looks up. The _way_ he looks at her is electrifying - jaw slack and eyes dark. “Uhm. Hi.”

She gently tugs on his tie, smile wide. “I thought perhaps it was time to revisit the skirt.”

“I am… _so_ conflicted right now, sweetheart.” He swallows. “I mean, you look… _fuck_.”

She laughs. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“You _should_ , I want to do obscene things to you. But the schoolgirl thing… that makes me a bad, _bad_ man.”

“I wore this uniform until my final year,” she points out. “I was eighteen.”

“That doesn't make me feel _much_ better, you know - what are you doing?” he asks as she sinks to her knees.

“Saying thank you.” She smirks as she unzips his trousers, fingers light and quick as she rids him of them. Her breath is hot against his skin, and he groans.

“Oh - _ha_ \- oh, _fuck_ , Cassandra, sweetheart -”

“Do you not want me to?”

“I do! I do, but -”

She trails her tongue along his length and whatever argument he had prepared dissolves into a panted whimper. “Then let me,” she murmurs, looking up at him.

“Cassandra -”

“Sit down.”

Varric slumps into the couch with a soft _oof_ , his eyes fixed on her. “You don’t have to -”

“I _want_ to,” she insists, smiling as her hand slowly moves up and down his shaft. “I like seeing you like this. All desperate for me.”

“I’m always desperate for you,” he pants, hips starting to rock. Her free hand comes up to hold him down as she settles between his legs.

“Good,” she says simply, and takes him into her mouth.

Varric’s eyes close, his breath catching as his hand scrabbles for her hair. “Oh fuck - oh, _fuck_ -”

It has been a long time since Cassandra has fucked a man with her mouth - she had never been a huge fan of it with Regalyan, despite his limited education from pornography insisting that it was the height of male sexual pleasure, and she had only done it with another man since - but there is something about the _feel_ of Varric beneath her, trembling and needy, that makes her suddenly enamoured with the practice.

That, and the fact that he does not shut up.

A veritable soliloquy of whimpers, moans and blasphemes punctuated with her name escapes his lips, his head thrown back as he loses himself to the sensations of her lips, her tongue, her heat. She quickens her pace, soft slurping noises as he tilts her head back just slightly to catch her eyes.

“Shit, you look so good like that,” he groans, hand tightening in her hair. “I'm gonna come - shit, Cassandra, I'm gonna _come_ , sweetheart, get off -”

She moans, one hand splayed on his hip as she sucks in her cheeks, and Varric lets out a louder noise, a strangled sort of thing that gets caught on his surprise as he comes, the warm fluid filling her mouth.

She slows, sucking gently as she swallows, before rearing back with a smile. As Varric looks down, a dazed expression on his face, she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, rocking back on her knees.

“Holy fuck,” he manages.

She laughs, patting his leg. “Yes, my love.”

“You - you swallow?”

“Is that a surprise?” “Kind of?” His hand covers hers for a moment. “I don’t really know what I did to deserve you. Or that.”

“Varric -”

“But I’ll keep doing it,” he adds. “Whatever it is. That was… shit, that was amazing.”

She chuckles, cheek resting against his knee. “I used to think that it was a sin, to experience any sort of contact with boys - men,” she corrects, “though I was young at the time. Last time we were here, I was almost sent back to that moment. You reminded me of how far I have come, and how good it is to be able to give such pleasure.”

“Powerful need to kiss you now,” he murmurs, beckoning her up into his lap. She gladly acquiesces, straddling his hips as she cups his face tenderly.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“Don't I know it,” he smiles, pulling her into a gentle embrace.


End file.
